


The Outlaw Buffy Summers.

by steeleye



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Buffy the Vampire Slayer - Freeform, F/F, Outlaw Josey wales, action adventure, crossover fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-04 23:26:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 37,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3096488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steeleye/pseuds/steeleye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“They say you’re a hard ridin’, desperate woman, Buffy Summers,” Granny cackled, “they’re gonna heel and hide you to a barn door…” After jumping from Glory’s tower Buffy finds herself in Missouri at the beginning of the Civil War.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Outlaw Buffy Summers.

By Steeleye.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or ‘The Outlaw Josey Wales’, which was directed by Clint Eastward; written by Philip Kaufman and Sonia Chernus from the book ‘Gone to Texas’ by Forrest Carter. I do not claim authorship of any scripted words you might recognise. I write these stories for fun not profit.

 **Crossover:** ‘The Outlaw Josey Wales’ was made in 1976 and is still probably the best western ever made.

**Spelling, Punctuation, and Grammar:** Written in glorious English-English which is different to American-English.

**Timeline:** End of BtVS season 5, after that all ‘Outlaw’ until the beginning of BtVS season 6.

**Words:** Fourteen chapters of about 2500+ words.

**Warnings:** Here lies the body of Mike O'Day, who died defending his right of way. He was right, t'was clear, his will was strong; but he's just as dead as if he'd been wrong.

**Summary:** “They say you’re a hard ridin’, desperate woman, Buffy Summers,” Granny cackled, “they’re gonna heel and hide you to a barn door…” After jumping from Glory’s tower Buffy finds herself in Missouri at the beginning of the Civil War.

0=0=0=0

_All you need to do is take_  
One step into the sky.  
Give yourself to gravity,  
Give death another try.* 

*: Free Fall; Hawkwind.

Turning away from Dawn, Buffy paused for just a moment before she started her run towards the rising sun. Her long strides soon took her to the end of the platform; stepping off Glory’s tower, she leapt into thin air and fell towards the portal that glowed beneath her. As she fell she felt the weight of the world lifted from her shoulders, she heard the wind rushing in her ears and a loud, calm, female voice that seemed to fill the entire universe.

“…and now the marks for artistic interpretation…” The voice started to recite numbers. “…Eight point five, eight point seven, eight point…”

Slowly the voice faded away and Buffy found herself caressed by a soft, warm, blackness and for a time a feeling of utter peace surrounded and engulfed her, until…

0=0=0=0

Opening her eyes, Buffy found herself sitting on the cold, hard ground; not six feet in front of her lay three freshly dug graves. One was about the size for a normal adult; the other two were depressingly small. Each grave had a crooked, roughly made cross over it and near by lay a shovel with fresh earth still on its blade.

The sound of a crow ‘cawing’ made Buffy look up; her eyes were met by the sight of a burnt out log cabin; wisps of thin grey smoke still rose into the cold blue sky above the skeletal trees that surrounded the clearing where the cabin had stood. Shivering Buffy pulled her rough, homespun jacket more firmly around her shoulders. Running her hands over the material she frowned as memories seeped slowly into her mind like…like… After a short struggle Buffy’s mind gave up trying to find the right simile and went on to study her memories in greater detail.

Buffy remembered kissing her sister goodbye after telling her to look after her friends for her, she also remembered the sound of horse’s hooves beating on the ground as they got closer and closer. In the same moment as she found herself running towards the end of Glory’s tower she was also running towards the cabin her long skirts dragging at her legs slowing her down.

Jumping into the night air, Buffy also remembered gunshots and men on horses riding around the cabin smashing things up while they fired into the house. Being hit by one of the horses she fell to the ground at about the same time as she entered the magic portal. Struggling to get to her feet again Buffy heard voices, a man’s voice calling her name urgently from somewhere close by. Vainly she tried to get back to her feet; somehow she had to go to that voice that called her name so desperately. Pushing herself to her feet at last Buffy shoved herself between the milling horses and towards what looked like a barn. Not having taken more than a few steps she heard another voice calling to her, a child’s voice.

“MAMA!” the child screamed from the cabin from which clouds of dirty grey smoke were already escaping into the cold air, “MAMA!”

Turning away from the barn, Buffy tried to make her way to the cabin, but each time she took a couple of steps she’d be knocked to the ground by the men on horses. Eventually she stopped trying to stand up and concentrated on crawling across the cold, damp earth towards the cabin, flinching away from the flashing hooves she crawled on towards the now fiercely burning cabin.

“MAMA!” the child screamed in fear and panic, only this time the child’s voice was joined by a baby’s scream.

“I’m coming,” Buffy gasped desperately as she crawled on hands and knees towards the homestead, “mama’s coming baby.”

Almost at the house now, Buffy made it to her feet again and ran the few steps to the door of the cabin. Kicking in the door, she was forced back by the heat of the flames that roared from the open doorway, although she tried to enter the house several times each time she was forced back by the smoke and flames that billowed from the doors and windows. As she lay on the ground she watched as the roof caved in and silenced the screams of the children still inside; her children a memory told her.

Seeing one of the horsemen laughing as he watched the burning ruin of her home collapse in on itself, Buffy stumbled to her feet and launched herself at the man with a blood curdling scream. The man turned to look at her as he registered her cry; with insolent slowness he raised the rifle that he held in his right hand and brought it crashing down on her head. Feeling a pain like she’d never felt before, Buffy stumbled and fell to her knees. Again the man raised his rifle only to bring it sweeping down on to her head again. Rapidly the darkness closed in around her and she fell onto her back and lay so still any observer might think she was dead.

0=0=0=0

**Later.**

Later Buffy remembered waking up, lying on her back with her skirts hitched up around her hips and her legs wide open. Knowing without even bothering to look that she’d been gang raped, she pushed down her skirts and got slowly and painfully to her feet. For a moment she stood and swayed as a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over her. Closing her eyes for a moment and taking a few deep breaths she waited for the feeling that she was going to spin to the ground again pass. Taking a slow and painful step, Buffy tried to ignore the dull ache between her legs as she headed haltingly towards the ruin of the barn.

On the ground between the burnt down walls lay the body of a young man, older than her by a few years she guessed. He lay as if asleep strangely untouched by the fire that had consumed the building. Bending down she grabbed him by the shoulders of his jacket and pulled him across the ground. It was only then that Buffy realised that her slayer strength, which had seemed to have deserted her had somehow returned.

“Why now?” Buffy asked an uncaring universe as she sat down hard on the cold ground and stared at the body.

Why hadn’t she been able to do something earlier to save this man and…Buffy remembered the child crying from inside the burning cabin.

“ _Mama!_ ” the child’s voice echoed through her mind. “ _Mama!_ ” and Buffy knew with a certainty that she’d never felt before about anything, that the child had been hers. 

The piteous screams of the baby echoing in her head made her bury her face in her hands and start to sob uncontrollably. Her child, her baby where dead because she couldn’t help them, because she’d been weak, because she’d been normal.

0=0=0=0

**Later.**

Vaguely she remembered drifting like a ghost through the ruins of her home the acrid smell of wood ash and burning in her nostrils. She found the child hidden in the corner of the main room of the cabin, a blackened bundle still clutched in its burnt and twisted arms. Both children were too badly burnt for Buffy to tell whether they were boys or girls. Carefully she picked up the charred remains and took them outside to lie next to their father.

Wandering like she was in a trance over to the wall of the barn, Buffy found a long handled shovel. Walking over to an area of fresh earth she started to dig. She never knew how long it took her, but it couldn’t have taken her long, two of the holes were heartbreakingly small. Once she’d finished digging she lay the bodies into their separate holes and started to shovel the cold earth over their bodies. After patting down the earth into three smooth mounds, Buffy found wood and twine to make crosses. The rough crosses where the best she could do. As she drove the crosses into the soil at the head of each grave she realised she couldn’t remember her family’s names. Once again Buffy found herself on her knees, her head in her hands, crying inconsolably. How could she have forgotten the names of her own children and her husband?

0=0=0=0

**Later.**

A search of the ruined cabin revealed a small, secret compartment under the floor boards of the cabin. Ripping the scorched floorboards to one side Buffy found a box with some faded photographs and a bag containing a few coins and a couple of banknotes. For a while she sat on the floor and studied the photographs. They showed a small family group all dressed in what was obviously their Sunday best. A proud husband and father standing behind a cute looking young woman who held a baby in her arms while a small girl looked shyly at the camera from beside her mother.

Recognising the young woman as herself, Buffy’s eyes moved to study the man. He was clean shaven and handsome, she knew from when she’d buried him he’d been a good six feet tall, strong and fit. For a moment Buffy congratulated herself on finding what had obviously been such a fine man to father her children and set up home together, they looked happy, at least in the picture, but… But she still couldn’t remember any of their names.

Picking up a bible she flicked through the pages hoping it was one of those family bibles that had everyone’s names inscribed on the blank pages just inside, but there was nothing. The bible looked new and nothing particularly special, Buffy discarded it after a moment or two, something else had caught her eye.

Putting aside the bible she picked up the gun belt and pulled the long barrelled revolver from the holster. After studying the weapon for a moment, her slayer instincts told her how it worked and how it was aimed and fired. Buffy replaced the revolver in its holster and retrieved the heavy card box and round metal tin that had been lying next to the gun. Opening these she found paper wrapped cartridges in the box and brass percussion caps in the tin. Slipping the photograph inside the top of her dress, Buffy picked up the revolver and its ammunition and continued the search of the cabin. 

In a heavy wooden trunk that had only been slightly burnt on one side she found what were obviously some of her husband’s and her own clothes neatly folded away for future use. Going through the trunk she found a pair of her husbands’ trousers and a couple of simple white blouses that probably belonged to herself. Putting the revolver, ammunition and photograph safely to one side, Buffy started to strip off her dirt and smoke soiled dress and her under clothes which were soiled with things far worse than wholesome earth. 

Still unable to look too closely at herself, Buffy wiped herself between her legs with a clean petticoat before putting on clean underwear, her husband’s trousers and one of her own blouses. Over this she put on a heavy jacket that she’d found in the trunk and her own shoes and socks. After adjusting the gunbelt to fit, it was far too large for her even with the thick jacket she was wearing, she buckled it on. Lastly she placed the family photograph carefully in an inside pocket of the jacket, she told herself she’d need to find something better to carry it in before it got damaged.

Walking outside into the darkening evening, Buffy loaded the revolver, a tedious business involving putting the paper cartridges into the revolver’s cylinder and percussion caps on the nipples at the other end. Once she was satisfied that the weapon was loaded properly she looked around for a target. Seeing a fence post about fifty yards away in the failing light she raised the revolver and aimed at it over the top of the barrel. 

Pulling back the hammer with her thumb, Buffy let out a long slow breath; squeezing the trigger she felt the weapon buck in her hand. Altering her grip slightly she looked through the cloud of white smoke caused by her firing and saw that her first round had hit the post dead centre about four inches down from the top. Pulling back the hammer again, she fired again and again and again. When the hammer fell on a fired cap, Buffy holstered her weapon and walked over to examine the post.

The six neat holes clustered near the top of the post had almost blown the top of the post into the field beyond. Satisfied with her work she reloaded before going to sit on the remains of the front step of her little house in the woods. On her way she found a wide brimmed hat lying in the dirt, pushing her hair up under the hat she put it on and sat down to wait. What she was waiting for she didn’t know, she’d know when it arrived and then…? Well, and then she’d go out and avenge the deaths of her family.

“Vengeance is mine sayth the slayer,” Buffy told herself as she sat down to wait.

0=0=0=0

**The following morning.**

The sound of hoof beats across the ground awoke Buffy with a start, her hand went automatically to the butt of the revolver resting high on her hip. Moments later a whole troop of men mounted on big dark horses appeared along a track that she’d not noticed until now. They slowed from the steady canter they’d been using when they saw the burnt out farmstead. Turning towards Buffy they advanced towards her at a slow walk. A big man with a full beard separated himself from the crowd and rode over to where Buffy sat. Carefully he kept his hands away from the many revolvers that were attached to his saddle and to belts strapped around his body. He leaned against the horn of his saddle and looked down at Buffy.

“The name’s Anderson,” the big man told Buffy, he turned to look at the grim faced men who followed him, “Bloody Bill’s what they call me.” He turned once more to look down at Buffy, “Redlegs?”

Not knowing why, Buffy stared up at the man and nodded, maybe this was who or what she’d been waiting for.

“You’ll find them up in Kansas,” Bloody Bill Anderson explained, “they’re with the Union and we’re going up there to set things aright.”

“I’ll be coming with you,” Buffy announced as she got slowly to her feet.

0=0=0=0


	2. Chapter 2

2.

**Four years and one Civil War later.**

It was only after she’d been on three or four raids that the rest of Bloody Bill’s men realised that Buffy was a woman. Up until then her heavy coat and the fact that a lot of the raiders had hair almost as long as she’d had hers had made her comrades think that she was just a beardless boy out to avenge the death of his folks. The revelation that Buffy was in fact a woman had caused some consternation amongst the men at first. However, Buffy had already proved herself in combat and they very quickly accepted her as ‘one of the guys’ the only difference being between her and the other raiders was that she went and squatted behind a bush when she needed to pee.

After about a year of raid and counter-raid, Bloody Bill’s raiders started to work more closely with the regular Confederate forces in the area, some of the men even started to wear proper uniforms. Buffy never did, she cared nothing for State’s Rights or slavery, her war was against the men who had killed her family and gang raped her. To her the entire Civil War was just a handy way of covering her own program of death and revenge.

Towards the end of the war Bloody Bill was shot and died a few days later. This came as something of a blow to Buffy. Over the past two or three years that she’d been with the raiders she’d grown close to the taciturn man who acted like a father figure to her. Of all the riders Bloody Bill’s death hit Buffy the worst, however this didn’t prevent her from continuing her war of vengeance against the Redlegs and their Northern backers. Eventually, however, the tide of war turned against the Confederacy and the guerrilla bands like the one Buffy had attached herself to found themselves fighting to survive more than for any cause any of the men might have aspired to.

0=0=0=0

One cold, grey autumn day, Buffy found herself sitting around a smoky fire in a clearing in the wilderness. Around her sat or stood about twenty or so grey and butternut clad, grimfaced men. The raider’s numbers were way down on what they had once been, many men had ridden off and surrendered or simply gone home once they’d heard of Lee’s surrender at Appomattox the previous spring. Turning her head at the sound of horse’s hooves approaching along a nearby track (Buffy was always the first to hear an approaching foe) she saw Mr Fletcher, who’d taken over from Bloody Bill, ride into the clearing. Stopping his horse John Fletcher didn’t dismount he just sat there for a moment up on his horse looking down at his men, finally he spoke.

“All a man,” Fletcher paused and nodded politely to Buffy, “or woman, has to do is ride down into that Federal camp, swear that he’ll be loyal to the United States and he can take up his horse again and go home.”

This piece of intelligence was met by a long silence broken only by the sound of wood crackling as it was consumed by the flames of the fire.

“They’re gonna give us full amnesty?” asked one of the older survivors.

“Yep,” Fletcher nodded, “everyone else has done it, we’re the last of the ‘hold-outs’.” Fletcher sat there on his horse and didn’t say anything for a long minute before announcing; “I’m goin’ in boys, I’ve had enough…”

Staring into the fire, Buffy kept her head down as she thought about what she was going to do. She had no family, not even the one that appeared to be hers here in the past, she had nothing to live for, nothing to go home to, in fact she had no home. What was the point in her surrendering, the men who had killed her husband and children and raped her were still alive out there somewhere. No, she shook her head a little, she wasn’t going to surrender. She was going to carry on with her private war until she’d killed the men who’d killed her family or someone killed her.

Reluctantly men started to drift away from the fire and walk slowly towards their horses. Buffy could hear the clinking of tin mugs against equipment as the men moved, glancing up she saw one man furl the company standard around its flag staff before heading off out of her field of view. For a few moments the men sitting on the cold, hard, ground next to her remained seated as if ashamed of the idea that they’d give up before Buffy, a woman, did. Soon even these men got up and walked away. Alone now except for Jamie, a teenage fighter who’d sort of attached himself to her like she was some sort of scary big sister; Buffy glanced at the young man sitting by her side.

“Buffy…?” Jamie looked at her his eyes wide with uncertainty.

“Better go with them, Jamie,” Buffy said before going back to studying the little flames that danced in the fire.

Very soon she was sitting all by herself only Fletcher stayed near her, slowly he climbed off his horse and walked over to squat down beside her.

“Are you comin’ with us Buffy?” he asked.

“I don’t think so, Fletch,” Buffy looked up at the man to see the concern in his eyes; she suspected he was sweet on her but he had never made any move to show her how he felt.

“They’ll be coming after you Buff,” Fletcher told her quietly.

“Whatever,” Buffy nodded her head as she looked back at the fire.

“There’s nowhere to go to get away,” Fletcher warned her.

“Totally,” Buffy agreed with a sigh, there was nowhere for her to go, not now, not ever.

“Well,” Fletcher laid his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, “good luck, Buffy.”

Turning to look at the man, Buffy opened her mouth to speak but no words came, she didn’t know what to say so she said nothing and simply nodded her head.

Sitting alone by the fire, Buffy never turned her head once to watch as the rest of the raiders climbed up on their horses and formed up into an untidy column on the track. Taking his position at the head of the raiders, Fletcher glanced back to where Buffy still sat alone by the fire, a little lost figure in a big world. For a moment he considered going back down there and grabbing her and making her come with the rest of them. He smiled at his own foolishness. He knew that Buffy never went anywhere that she didn’t want to go and it was a foolish man who tried to make her. Turning his eyes away from the little figure by the fire, Fletcher raised his hand and signalled the men to move out. They’d had a good run, but now the war was over, it was time to go home.

0=0=0=0

Buffy sat and stared into the fire for a long time. The sound of the raider’s horses and the clink-clank of their equipment had drifted away on the breeze a long time ago and still Buffy hadn’t decided what she was going to do. Eventually she stood up and stretched stiff muscles, looking over to the deserted horse lines she saw her horse waiting patiently for her.

Not really knowing why, maybe it was a desire to see things thought to the bitter end. Perhaps she had some idea for one last wild raid that would end with her being shot down by the Federal soldiers. Perhaps she secretly regretted not going with the men who’d come to be her friends; maybe she should try and make a life with Fletcher if he’d have her, forget about the past and try to build a new future. After all those children hadn’t really been her children, that young man hadn’t really been her real husband…but. But, they felt like her children and her husband, the pain she felt and the tears that filled her eyes when she thought about them were real and she could hear their voices as their souls called to her for vengeance.

Climbing up on her horse, Buffy followed her one-time brothers in arms, why brothers? They’d always treated her as a sister, not one of the men who knew her had tried to force himself on her and they’d always reacted badly towards any man who tried…not that she really needed their help. No, she’d decided to follow her brothers and friends, watch them surrender and make sure they were alright; after that? Well, after that she didn’t know, but she was sure that she’d think of something.

0=0=0=0

Dismounting, Buffy left her horse behind a tree and ran through the saplings to the edge of the woods. Crouching on a small outcrop of rock, she took her spyglass from its leather holder, opening out the telescope she put it to her eye. There in the big field slightly below her, Buffy could see the Union camp. There were white army tents, wagons and horse and mule lines enough for a regiment of Federal cavalry. She saw smoke from cook fires and men sitting at or behind tables ready to receive the raiders as they rode in.

Pointing her glass over towards the east she saw the raiders ride into the Union camp, halt and dismount. After tying their horses to a horse line they moved to hand in there weapons. Noticing some delay, Buffy focused in on the head of the line handing in their rifles and pistols, she smiled when she recognised Jamie arguing with the Union soldier standing behind the table. She imagined Jamie saying how he’d need his rifle for hunting squirrels, although Buffy knew that a hit from the Enfield rifled musket that Jamie carried would blow any but the biggest squirrels to pink mist.

After the men had handed in their weapons, Buffy watched as they were moved on to another set of tables where they received a meal. Buffy’s stomach growled as she smelt the fried chicken and new baked bread come to her on the breeze. For a moment she was once again tempted to go down into the camp and turn herself in. The Union men appeared to be keeping to their word of full amnesty, maybe they were as sick of the war as her friends were? Perhaps the time had come to end it all once and for all. Standing up with every intention of going into the camp and surrendering, Buffy was about to put her telescope away when she saw something move over by one of the tents.

Crouching down again Buffy put her spyglass to her eye once more. Sweeping it over the camp, this time ignoring the surrendering raiders and concentrating on the tents instead, she saw what looked like rifle barrels sticking out of tent flaps all around the area where the raiders stood eating their meal. Standing up, Buffy continued to watch as Union soldiers slowly backed away from the Confederates until the raiders were standing on the inside of a wide circle of Union troopers.

A trap! The thought came to Buffy’s mind as she raced for her horse with no real idea, other than helping her friends, as to what she was going to do next. Leaping on to the back of her horse, Buffy heard the first rifle shots followed by the slow yammer of a Gatling gun down in the camp. Galloping like a woman possessed towards the camp, Buffy drew a revolver in both hands and started to shoot down the Union soldiers as she galloped towards them steering her horse with her knees.

Riding into the camp she shot down Federal cavalrymen as they tried to turn and engage this new threat. Her own friends were running desperately for cover or over to where their weapons lay stacked on the table where the Union men had left them; mostly they were shot down as Gatling and rifle fire raked their thinning ranks. In amongst the tents, Buffy rode her horse over to one of the wagons that concealed the Gatling gun. Firing at point blank range into the back of the wagon she gunned down the crew before clambering from her horse and into the wagon.

Replacing her pistols into the holsters at her hip, Buffy took hold of the Gatling's cranking handle. Once again she thanked the powers that let her touch any weapon and instinctively know how to use it. Looking up and feeling rounds fly by her head she saw a large group of Union soldiers coming towards her firing as they ran. Turning the handle, Buffy watched as they started to fall as she played the fire from the rapid fire gun over them.

Suddenly the Gatling stopped firing, the magazine had run dry, luckily for her most of the dismounted cavalry troopers now lay dead on the ground. The survivors had taken cover wherever they could and were directing a desultory fire at her position. Snatching up a full magazine, Buffy quickly swapped the empty one for the full just in time to see men on horses race towards her hoping to cross the beaten zone before she could kill too many of them. Once again Buffy turned the crank and the barrels span.

Men and horses went down screaming as the smoke from the Gatling fire formed a small fog bank in front of the wagon that Buffy was using as a fort. Once again the Gatling stopped firing and Buffy was just about to swap magazines when the cover at the rear of the wagon where she’d climbed in was pulled aside. Snatching a pistol from her belt Buffy nearly blew blue daylight though Jamie’s head as he sat on his horse behind the wagon.

“Buffy,” Jamie called as he tried to control his frightened horse, “we best be on our way.”

“Get outta here, Jamie!” Buffy called back as she used her pistols to shoot down more Federal troopers who’d started to come out of hiding and attack her position.

“We’ve gotta take to that brush!” Jamie insisted as he pointed towards the woods.

“Whatever, you get going,” Buffy called as she swapped one empty revolver for a loaded one.

“You can’t get ‘em all, Buffy!” Jamie pleaded unwilling to leave his ‘Big Sis’ behind.

“Totally,” Buffy shrugged before shooting another trooper, “but I can try and I’ve got nothing better to do today.”

“Buffy,” Jamie tried once more to divert Buffy from her road to certain suicide, “Fletcher was in with them…it was a trap!”

“Fletcher?” Buffy stopped firing and turned to look at the boy, “I never thought he’d…” Buffy noticed the blood on Jamie’s shirt for the first time. “Oh god! You’ve been hit!”

“Buffy,” Jamie was near to tears, “I’ve gotta tell you something…I’m scared of dying.”

Holstering her pistols, Buffy climbed out of the back of the wagon, gathered up the reins of her horse, mounted up and galloped off. By the time Captain Terrill and his Redlegs had outflanked the wagon and filled it full of holes, Buffy and Jamie were long gone.

0=0=0=0


	3. Chapter 3

3.

**The Union Camp.**

“What’s the meaning of this Senator?” Fletcher demanded angrily as he gazed out at the dead bodies both blue and grey. “You promised me those men would be decently treated…”

“And they were,” Senator Farnsworth sneered, “they were decently fed and then they were decently shot!”

“Why you…!” Fletcher almost went for one of his revolvers to gun the mad-dog of a senator down, but before he could draw one of his pistols he was distracted by the arrival of Captain Terrill, who’d just joined them under the awning where they’d been standing. “What’s that Redleg doing here?” 

Fletcher now realised that this had all been a trap from the very beginning, there’d never been any intention on the senator’s part to just let his men go home.

“Captain Terrill is now the regular Federal authority in these parts,” Farnsworth announced smoothly.

“Captain Terrill,” Fletcher spoke quietly his face white with anger, “is a murderin’, bushwhackin’ son of a bitch!”

“He also has my commission to go and hunt down this,” Farnsworth paused for a moment before saying the name, “Buffy Summers woman as have you,” Farnsworth starred menacingly into Fletcher's face, “Fletcher I’m giving you a commission, hound this Summers woman to kingdom come.”

“Hound her senator?” Fletcher replied slowly, “A woman like Summers lives by the feud, because of what you did here today I’m gonna have to kill her.”

“Well,” breathed the senator, “she’ll have to run for it now and hell is where she’s headed.”

“She’ll be waiting for us there senator,” Fletcher replied quietly.

0=0=0=0

**Somewhere in Southern Missouri.**

After the excitement of the battle in the camp and riding hard for an hour or more, Buffy was grateful to slow down enough so that she could stop and tend to Jamie’s wound. Frowning in concern at the bloody hole in the young man’s shoulder, she did her best to patch him up. Luckily the wound was a through and through, she knew from nearly four years of war that had the bullet still been in Jamie’s body the young man’s days would be numbered. Even if she got him to a doctor there’d be no guarantees that he’d live; without an X-ray there was no way of her knowing what damage the bullet had done inside his shoulder.

After helping Jamie back up into his saddle and mounting up herself, Buffy led the way through the woods and wilderness of Southern Missouri. While she’d been tending to Jamie’s wound she’d come up with a plan that might mean that the two of them could get away.

“Don’t think you need to hold back on my account, Buffy,” Jamie told her, “I can ride.”

Glancing across at her friend Buffy raised a sceptical eyebrow, Jamie was holding onto his reins and saddle horn for grim life, sweat beaded his forehead and he looked awfully pale.

“I’m sooo not holding back just for you,” Buffy gave a forced laugh, “if we ride instead of using our heads we’ll be totally hanging from a tree by nightfall.” Buffy shook her head sadly, “There’s enough posses ‘round abouts to start another war and we don’t want that to happen do we?”

“No Ma’am,” Jamie gave a weak smile then coughed a little, “So, where we headed?”

“Indian Nations,” Buffy replied, “It’s a good place to rest and get you totally well again.”

“Then we go back an’ kill Fletcher?” Jamie sounded almost eager.

“Yeah,” Buffy sighed quietly, “I suppose we do.”

0=0=0=0

The trail that Buffy and Jamie followed led through the woods until it eventually came out by a deep, slow moving river. They followed the river until it flowed out onto an even deeper, wider river. Gazing at the slow moving dark waters, Buffy realised they’d never be able to swim the horses across, plus they also needed supplies. Casting a look at the blood that oozed slowly from Jamie’s shoulder, Buffy admitted to herself that she needed better bandages and maybe a poultice to stop infection if Jamie was to have any chance of surviving.

Riding along the narrow trail next to the river, Buffy noticed that the trees on the riverside were beginning to thin out, perhaps this was a sign that they were coming to a crossing place. Sure enough as they followed a slight bend in the river, Buffy saw a ferry tied up on their side of the river, the first piece of good luck she’d had today. There were also a couple of small clapboard houses nearby and two men standing looking out over the river. One man was dressed in rough working clothes, obviously the ferry operator; the other was dressed in a fancy white suit with a dark coloured top hat. Buffy remembered reading about his type in history class; he was a Carpetbagger, a flim-flam merchant or to put it in more modern terms, a con artist.

The ferry operator turned on hearing the riders approach leaving the carpetbagger standing by himself for a moment. Watching Buffy and Jamie’s approach closely the ferryman slowly started to sing ‘Dixie’. As soon as the riders halted in front of him he stopped singing and gave Buffy a faux smile of greeting, she however wasn’t fooled by this apparently friendly gesture.

“Howdy,” Buffy opened the conversation.

“Howdy there,” the ferryman lifted his hat as soon as he realised Buffy was a woman, “Sim Carstairs is the name, Miss…?”

“Hey,” Buffy ignored Carstairs’ attempt at finding out her name, “I guessing we might totally give you some ferrying business.”

“With pleasure,” Carstairs gave Buffy another gap toothed smile as the carpetbagger came up to join the happy throng.

“Okay,” Buffy pointed towards the two houses, little more than huts really, “what y’got over there?”

“Oh,” Carstairs’ eyes followed Buffy’s pointing finger, “just the store with Granny Hawkins.”

“Look I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” Buffy urged her horse forward a little, “like, we’ll all go over to the store coz we’re all like, totally friends right?” Buffy gave Carstairs one of her best Socal-girl smiles which seemed to have the effect of turning his blood to ice water by the look on his face. “Of course I’ll totally ride on account of me being a lady an’ all and my friend will ride coz he’s not well.”

“Madam!” the carpetbagger held up a bottle of what looked like cold tea, “You’re in luck because I just happen to have a bottle of this amazing elixir guaranteed to cure most any ailment!”

“We’ll need half a side of bacon,” Buffy started to recite her shopping list to Carstairs while ignoring the carpetbagger’s sales pitch, coming to the end of her list she added, “and when we get over there, they’ll so not be any need for you to go inside as you can like shout through the door…” Buffy paused for a moment as she thought of something else, “…does Granny sell shoes?”

Urging the men towards the first of the little houses, Buffy followed behind them, one hand on her reins the other on the butt of one of her many pistols.

“So you’ll be Buffy Summers,” an old woman with a pipe clamped between her few remaining, tobacco stained teeth stepped out on to the veranda of the store.

“How’d you know that, Granny?” Buffy asked as she brought her horse to a halt.

“Soldiers were here lookin’ for you about two hours ago,” Granny explained, “an’ a gun totin’ woman on a horse is a might hard to miss,” she smiled exposing a mouth full of gums.

“I-I was gonna mention that…” Carstairs claimed nervously.

“Whatever,” Buffy sighed tiredly.

“They say y’killed y’own men,” Granny took the pipe from her mouth and tilted her head to one side as she gazed up at Buffy.

“Thems, lyin’, blue scumbellies!” Jamie muttered angrily.

“Stop cussin’,” Buffy looked sharply at Jamie, “I’ve told you before…”

“They say you’re a hard ridin’, desperate woman, Buffy Summers,” Granny cackled, “they’re gonna heel and hide you to a barn door…you know what I say?”

“Whatever,” Buffy groaned; she’d heard this sort of thing many times before.

“I say that big talk ain’t worth diddlysquat!” Granny cackled some more as she sucked on her pipe.

Turning away from Buffy, Granny organised their supplies and had Carstairs tie them to Jamie’s and Buffy’s saddles. Finally Granny came down off her porch to give Buffy the bandages and poultice for Jamie’s wound.

“Them, poultices be laced with feather moss and mustard root,” Granny explained, “mind you drop some water on ‘em occasional and keep them damp.”

“Totally obliged, Granny,” Buffy thanked the old woman as she searched in her pockets for some coins to pay her with.

“You can pay me when you see me again, Buffy Summers,” Granny turned around and headed back towards her store.

“Totally,” Buffy said quietly.

0=0=0=0

As they crossed the river, Carstairs went back to singing ‘Dixie’ as he pulled on the rope that propelled the ferry across the slow moving river. His singing was beginning to annoy Buffy and she was just thinking about throwing the man into the water and pulling on the rope herself (she’d get them across the river faster than Carstairs ever would) when she was distracted by the carpetbagger.

“Your friend looks like he could use some help…”

Buffy looked over to where Jamie lay across the neck of his horse, they really needed to stop so she could tend to his wound properly.

“…and this is it!” The Carpetbagger held up a bottle of his cold tea, “One dollar a bottle, it works wonders on wounds.”

Buffy looked at the bottle, it probably had alcohol in it so it might work as a disinfectant.

“Works on totally everything, huh?” Buffy looked up at the salesman.

“It can do most anything,” smiled the Carpetbagger.

“How’s it with like stains?” Buffy asked as she wiped her wet, dirty hand on the carpetbagger’s pristine white suit.

Turning away from the salesman, Buffy listened as everyone chuckled at the carpetbagger’s discomfort. Well, she sighed to herself, at least she’d lightened everyone else’s day. Looking out over the water as they neared the further bank, Buffy’s sharp eyes picked out the fresh hoof marks left on the bank by many cavalry mounts; no doubt they were out looking for her and Jamie. With a soft bump the ferry collided with the landing stage and Buffy swung herself up into her saddle. Looking at Jamie she rested her hand on his back for a moment.

“How you feeling?” Buffy asked quietly.

“I’m doin’ just fine, Buffy,” Jamie lied.

“Totally,” Buffy agreed not believing a word of it.

Just as she and Jamie were riding ashore with the carpetbagger and his pack horse close behind there was shouting from the far bank. Turning in her saddle, Buffy watched as about a dozen riders rode rapidly up to the opposite landing stage and demanded that Carstairs bring the ferry back, obviously the pursuit had caught up with them.

“Whupped ‘em again, Buffy,” Jamie’s laugh turned into a cough.

“OH!” Carstairs cried excitedly, “They want me back over there! I can’t hold on,” he explained as he pulled lustily for the other shore, “but I’ll make like something’s wrong until you’re outta sight, alright?”

Buffy watched for a moment or two a Carstairs heaved on the rope, she guessed he had no intention of stopping mid-stream and when he started to sing ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic’, she knew he’d try and get those Federal troopers over to her side of the river as fast as he could.

“He ain’t gonna hold up no ferry,” Jamie pointed out, “he’s gonna bring that cavalry over as fast as he can!”

“Totally,” Buffy agreed, “bet there’s a nice reward out for us…” she smiled, “…it’s so nice to be wanted.”

“We best hurry on, Buffy,” Jamie said as he glanced around looking for cover.

“Nah,” Buffy shook her head, “they’ll just catch up to us by the end of the day,” she looked down and studied the tracks leading up the bank from the river. “Judging by these tracks there’s like forty of fifty horses ahead of us.” She looked back at the river where the Federal cavalrymen were starting to load up on the ferry. “What we’ve got to do is put some space between us and them.”

“What are we gonna do?” Jamie asked urgently.

“Like totally stay here,” Buffy shrugged before dismounting and leading her horse a little further up the river bank to where a twisted old tree grew.

0=0=0=0

On the other side of the river the first half dozen or so troopers rode their horses aboard the ferry, amongst them were Captain Terrill and John Fletcher. Terrill stared across the river to see Buffy sitting on the ground next to an old tree.

“She’s still there,” Terrill looked back at Fletcher in confusion, “what the hell’s she playin’ at?”

“Damned if I know,” Fletcher shrugged his shoulders.

“Some of you men get down and prepare to fire,” Terrill ordered as three or four of his men climbed down and readied their carbines.

“Captain Redlegs,” Fletcher said slowly, “I advise you to turn back, you can catch her another day.”

“Turn back? Are you crazy?” Terrill turned to look at Fletcher, “She’s gonna try an’ pick us off one by one…at best she’ll get two or three down at the front there.”

“As Buffy would say,” Fletcher sighed as he got down and took cover behind his horse, “‘Whatever’.”

0=0=0=0

“They’re a-coming, Buffy,” Jamie called urgently.

Looking up from where she was sitting Buffy saw that, yes indeed, ‘they’ were coming. Slowly pushing herself to her feet she walked over to her horse and pulled the big Sharps carbine from its sheath. The weapon was almost as tall as she was and looked huge in her small hands. When she’d first acquired the rifle it’d had a long brass telescopic sight fitted above the barrel. She’d removed it because she didn’t need it, she hardly needed the iron sights fitted to the weapon either.

“Do you really think you can shoot all those men down…” asked the carpetbagger as he sat on the bank near the tree and scrubbed at Buffy’s hand print with a cloth soaked in his magic elixir, “…before they shoot you?”

Buffy ignored the carpetbagger as she loaded the Sharps and got herself into a comfortable firing position behind the tree.

“No, no, Miss Buffy Summers!” the carpetbagger continued to dab at the marks on his jacket, “There is such a thing as justice in this country.”

Pulling back the carbine’s hammer, Buffy smiled to herself; justice? She’d not seen much in the way of justice in the last four years.

“Well, Mr Carpetbagger,” Buffy rested the barrel of the Sharps on a branch and carefully took aim at the ferry, “we’ve got something around these parts called a Missouri Boat ride…”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than Buffy squeezed the trigger of her carbine. The weapon exploded with a bang and a flash accompanied by a cloud of white powder smoke as the bullet sped towards its target. The big heavy slug neatly severed the rope that held the ferry against the current and also provided its means of propulsion. The rope slipped from Carstairs’ hands and from the rollers that held it in place. The ferry, now a freely floating vessel started to spin as it drifted down stream with the current.

Hearing the cries of consternation from the ferry’s passengers and the frightened whinnying of their horses, Buffy allowed herself a small smile. Moving to put the carbine away, there’d be no need for a second shot, Buffy grinned encouragement at Jamie.

“God almighty!” Jamie laughed his face alive with amusement, “Whupped ‘em again, Buffy!”

“Totally,” Buffy agreed quietly, “whupped ‘em again.”

0=0=0=0


	4. Chapter 4

4.

**Somewhere in Southern Missouri.**

“Why are we stopping, Buffy?” Jamie asked as he swayed in his saddle, “It’s still a couple of hours ‘til dark.”

“I need to look at that wound of yours,” Buffy replied as she rode her horse into a dense thicket of bushes near a small stream, “and this looks like a good spot to camp, we mightn’t find better further on.”

After the little action at the ferry, Buffy hadn’t been able to detect any pursuit and it didn’t appear that any of the cavalry in front of them had doubled-back. They’d ridden hard all afternoon and the horses were tired, hell, she was tired; she could only imagine how Jamie must feel right now. But, the young man had never complained, he’d doggedly clung onto his saddle as they’d cantered along, but now they needed to stop. Like she’d told him earlier they needed to think as well as ride. Finding a clearing in the middle of the thicket, Buffy dismounted and then rushed over to Jamie and helped him down from his horse before he fell off it.

“Here,” Buffy helped Jamie over to a bolder that was sticking out of the grass to one side of the clearing, “sit down before you fall down.”

“Awwww Ma’,” Jamie joked, “don’t fuss so, I can manage.”

“Hey,” Buffy let the smile that had been hovering around her lips out, “you do as your Ma’ tells you…now shut-up and sit down.”

While she built a fire and tended to the horses, Buffy found herself thinking about her sister, Dawn. ‘Poor Dawn,’ she thought, ‘I wasn’t much of a sister to you was I?’ When she thought about it she realised that she’d been a better sister to Jamie than she'd ever been to Dawn, why was that, she wondered. In the strictest sense of the word she wasn’t actually related to either Jamie or Dawn. But Dawn felt like her sister, she had the memories of being Dawn’s big sister; she could remember her mom bringing Dawn home from the hospital. She remembered them playing together as they’d grown up until…until she’d changed and become the slayer, that’s when their relationship changed, that’s when she’d tried to push Dawn out of her life. At the time she’d told herself that it was for Dawn’s safety, but…

“What’s wrong Buffy?” Jamie called softly, “Are y'cryin’?”

“Yeah,” Buffy wiped the tears from her eyes, “I was thinking about my folks, how I miss them.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jamie replied softly thinking he’d intruded on Buffy’s private grief, “sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter now,” Buffy sniffed, wiped her face and smiled reassuringly at Jamie, “come-on, lets have a look at that hole. I’m getting sick of you totally bleeding all over everything.”

Walking down to the nearby stream, Buffy washed her hands as best she could, before going back to Jamie and getting him to lie down on a blanket. Removing his jacket, Buffy pulled his shirt away from the wound.

“Gross,” muttered Buffy as she removed the rough bandage she’d used to try and stop the worst of the bleeding, it hadn’t worked very well the rag was completely blood-soaked.

“Is it bad, Buffy?” Jamie’s eyes looked into hers pleading for her to tell him the truth.

“It’s bad,” Buffy agreed as she poured some water from a canteen onto a clean-ish rag and started to wipe away the blood; Jamie tried to look down so he could see the wound, “Don’t look at it, Jamie,” she ordered adding, “it’ll just make you feel worse.”

Satisfied that she’d got the wound as clean as she was likely to get it, Buffy started to mix the poultice Granny had given her in a bowl with some water until it looked like thick, green oatmeal. Crinkling up her nose, she started to ladle the green gloop onto the wound with a spoon.

“If I don’t make it Buffy,” Jamie looked up at her as she continued with her ‘first aid’, “I want you to know, I’m prouder than a game rooster to have rid with you.”

“Okay, ‘game rooster-boy’,” Buffy stopped applying the poultice and put the bowl down, “now hold still, I’ve still got to put a bandage on that.”

After helping Jamie off with his shirt, Buffy quickly and efficiently bandaged up the boy’s shoulder. Having done a lot of bandaging over the last four years she knew exactly what worked and what didn’t. Although she’d ridden and fought like any man in the guerilla band (some would say better than any man), she was still a woman and the men seemed to expect her to know what to do with any wound they might present to her. So, she knew some first aid, she’d had experience treating her own wounds, but gunshot wounds were beyond her capabilities, or so she thought. After four years of war, Buffy now thought that if she ever got back to her own time she’d make a pretty good combat-medic.

“You can make it without me, Buffy,” Jamie’s words intruded on Buffy’s thoughts.

“Hey, like that’s going to happen,” Buffy helped Jamie back into his bloodstained clothes, “now lie still while I make us something to eat.”

“I wish you’d been my Ma’, Buffy,” Jamie lay back on his blanket and closed his eyes, “Pa’ an’ I never had no Ma’,” Jamie smiled sleepily, “Y’know he had to do the fancy stitchin’ on this here shirt himself.”

Glancing up from the pork and beans she was starting to prepare, Buffy looked at the embroidered shirt Jamie was wearing. They’d been sort of guerrilla-chic in Bloody Bill’s outfit, they’d all worn them.

“Now fancy a grown man doin’ that fur his boy?” Jamie muttered, “Made me promise never to tell…”

Looking up from her frying pan, Buffy saw that Jamie had fallen asleep. Setting her pan to one side she walked over to him, checked his pulse (it was weak but steady) and then covered him with a blanket. Satisfied she’d done everything she could, Buffy went back to the fire to cook her own meal, telling herself that she must make sure that Jamie ate something in the morning.

Darkness fell as Buffy banked the fire before lying down and rolling herself in her blankets. Thankful that it wasn’t raining, she closed her eyes and tried to get to sleep. Normally she’d drift off as soon as her head hit the saddle she was using as a pillow, no tossing and turning unable to sleep in soft beds for her, no sir! Fresh air, riding hard and being shot at acted like no sleeping pill ever could. Except tonight; tonight she found sleep wouldn’t come, instead she found herself thinking about her Mom and her sister. Why was it she’d hardly given them a second thought over the last four years? While she’d thought about the people her mind told her were her family almost everyday.

Buffy had such clear memories of them although she couldn’t actually remember their names; she could remember making love to her ‘husband’, she could remember giving birth to her children, yet… Yet on the rare occasions she’d had the chance to take a proper bath she’s seen no evidence of stretch marks on her skin. As far as she could tell she’d never been pregnant let alone given birth. Once she’d almost gone to the doctor in one of the small towns they’d used to rest up in; she’d wanted him to examine her to see if she’d ever had a child, but she’d chickened out at the last minute.

Perhaps, she thought, when she’d jumped into Glory’s portal she’d somehow swapped places with this other ‘Buffy Summers’. If she had it was one of the universe’s biggest coincidences; how come this other woman looked exactly like her and they had the same name? How come…? Any other thoughts she might have had on the strangeness of her situation where brutally brushed aside as the memories of her husband and children being killed by the Redlegs flooded back into her mind. They seemed to beg her to give them vengeance, only then could they rest in their graves. Moaning softly to herself Buffy rolled over and pulled her blanket up around her chin to ward off the night’s chill.

Her thoughts were further disturbed as she remembered being raped by the Redlegs; she could remember the pain as they leered down at her. She remembered struggling and being hit across the jaw, she remembered… Buffy’s eyes flew open and she nearly sat up; that was weird, she told herself. How could she remember all these details when up until now she’d always _known_ she’d been unconscious. Before she could really concentrate on these inconsistent memories her eyes grew heavy, she tried to fight it but sleep rapidly overtook her and she fell into an exhausted dreamless sleep.

0=0=0=0

**The following morning.**

After coming back from squatting in the bushes, Buffy was just about to stir up the fire, wake Jamie and start on the breakfast when she sensed something in the bushes close by. Standing up slowly, she was just reaching for her pistol when she heard the distinctive sound of a musket being cocked behind her.

“Now you just do that Sister,” advised the man who was pointing a Springfield rifled musket at the centre of her chest, “you just bring that pistol right out.”

Another man burst from the under growth to point his musket at Buffy from behind the first man.

“I’ve got her, Lige,” the first man told his partner.

“It’s her, Abe,” Lige announced nervously, “It’s her! We’ve got the Buffy Summers, Abe! I’ve seen her ride side by side with Bloody Bill Anderson…we’ve got re-ward money a-comin’.” Lige licked his lips as he counted the reward money in his mind, “Watch it, Abe,” he advised his friend, “She’s meaner than a rattler an’ twice as fast with them pistols.”

“You’re a real ‘Bush hog’, ain’t you, Miss Buffy Summers?” Abe said not taking his eyes off Buffy for a second. “Now,” Abe was breathing quickly with excitement and Buffy was worried she might get shot by accident; the guy looked so worked up, as he gestured with his rifle, “move on back!”

“Watch her, Abe,” advised Lige, “I seen her do some darn strange things…”

“Shut up Lige,” Abe snapped as he advanced towards Buffy and she gave ground drawing them away from where Jamie was lying and still apparently asleep. “Now,” Abe took a deep breath and seemed to calm down a little, “I’d just as soon shoot you now except it’d be harder to drag y’body through the bush ‘til we get to a sheriff’s office…”

“Shoot her now, Abe!” Lige advised urgently.

“Shut up, Lige.” Abe ordered, “Now, I want you to take that left hand of yours and move it real slow and unbuckle that pistol belt.”

Doing as she was told, Buffy reviewed her options; Abe was quite close enough for her to kick or snatch his rifle away from him. However, Lige was further away and standing so that he could shoot her without fear of hitting his friend. Letting her pistol belt drop to the ground, Buffy sighed. It didn’t matter, she still had two pistols under her jacket that she doubted that these two bozos even suspected might exist.

“See Lige,” Abe gloated as he moved, foolishly putting himself between Buffy and Jamie; why foolishly? Buffy had just noticed that Jamie wasn’t asleep; she’d seen his hand moving towards his own pistol hidden under his blanket. “Pull her teeth, an’ she’s harmless as a heel-hound…”

Oh, thought Buffy, she was going to _so_ enjoy killing this asshole when the time came,

“Always wanted to face down one of these fancy pistol fighters they raise all the fuss about,” Abe told Lige proudly, “only way to handle 'em…”

“Abe, you watch out,” Lige cautioned, “she’s probably got another pistol hid…”

“Shut up Lige,” Abe snapped again.

Sighing inside, Buffy told herself that Lige obviously wasn’t as stupid as Abe, but Abe was going to get his friend killed any minute now.

“Call Benny up with the horses,” Abe ordered Lige.

So, Buffy nodded her head, there was another of these bushwhackers out there…three could die just as easily as two.

“Benny!” Lige yelled his voice echoing off the far bank of the stream, “Come out, we’ve got the Buffy Summers!”

“ _Oh fine Rosie_ ,” Jamie started to sing as if he was delirious, “ _the rose of Alabama…_ ”

“Who's that?” Abe asked seemingly noticing Jamie for the first time, he turned away from Buffy to look down at the boy; unknown to him, Abe’s life was now measured in seconds.

“Just a boy,” Buffy replied quietly, “he’s got a fever.”

“Tell him to shut up,” Abe told Lige who was nearest the boy.

Lige moved and kicked Jamie, for a moment he had his back to Buffy but he turned back to watch Buffy before she could move and be certain of killing the bushwhackers before their friend could join them.

“Ma?” Jamie called weakly, “Is that you Ma’?”

“It ain’t y’Ma’,” Abe sneered, “now shut up.”

“I got the gold right here, Ma!” Jamie cried out.

“What gold’s he talkin’ about?” Abe glanced at Buffy before turning back to look at Jamie again.

“There’s no gold,” Buffy explained unconvincingly, “he’s sick, he needs a doctor.”

“The gold we robbed from the Union pay role, Ma!” Jamie cried, now both the bushwhackers were looking at Jamie with renewed interest.

“Lige,” Abe grinned, his full attention on Jamie, “take a look under that there blanket.”

Buffy’s hand started to move towards the pistol under her jacket as Lige moved towards Jamie.

“I got it right here, Ma,” Jamie added drawing Lige closer.

Pulling back Jamie’s blanket, Lige found himself looking down the muzzle of a Colt .44 revolver. Half a second later the pistol went off blowing a neat hole in the centre of Lige’s chest and knocking him off his feet. Realising what was happening, Abe turned trying to bring his musket to bear on Buffy. He was way too slow and Buffy had plenty of time to draw and shot him at point blank range.

Dropping his musket, Abe spun as he fell to the ground. He wasn’t quite dead as he tried to pull his own pistol from its holster. Stepping up to the man, Buffy shot him between the eyes. Before glancing over at the boy to make sure he was alright; looking down at Jamie, Buffy saw him smiling up at her.

“Thought you could use some help,” Jamie grinned.

“I hope you’ve not opened up those wounds again,” Buffy knelt down to check on Jamie’s dressing, “I’m not dragging you all over creation with you bleeding over everything.”

“Whupped ‘em again, Buffy!” Jamie laughed.

“Totally,” Buffy agreed, “whupped ‘em again.”

0=0=0=0

After she’d stripped the corpses of anything useful (she’d heard the third bushwhacker ride off and decided not to follow him), Buffy broke camp and saddled up the horses. As she did so, she wondered why she’d shot Abe. He’d not really been a threat, Lige was dead, Jamie was behind him, she could have easily snatched the musket out of his hands and used it to knock him out cold. She could have tied him up and left him to wait for his friend Benny to come back. But she hadn’t she’d killed him for no really good reason that she could see. Before she could examine her motives in greater detail a vision of ‘her’ burning house and the screams of ‘her’ children blotted out all rational thought.

Shaking her head like a horse trying to rid itself of an annoying fly, Buffy finished saddling up. They needed to put some distance between themselves and the camp site, perhaps ‘Benny’ might come back with some friends. It looked like breakfast was going to have to wait.

0=0=0=0


	5. Chapter 5

5.

**An Infernal Region.**

Chuckling softly to himself, D’Hoffran turned away from the film-like vision of Buffy and Jamie riding away from the bushwhacker’s bodies. This was just too good, he told himself, vengeance like that going on in Kansas and Missouri was the meat and potatoes of his profession. But to have a slayer involved in the blood-letting was like having blood coloured icing on top of the cake.

For uncounted centuries, D’Hoffran had been a mostly un-regarded demon who worked hard at dispensing vengeance in the human realm. Unappreciated by his fellow demons, D’Hoffran still took pride in his work. To get himself noticed by the lower beings he needed something to raise his profile in the demon world. For years he’d worked hard on the bleeding wound that was Kansas and Missouri. Raid and counter-raid criss-crossed the borders of the two states; each dirty, little skirmish brought its own crop of feuds which cried out for vengeance.

It was good but it wasn’t good enough to attract the approval of the lower beings, D’Hoffran needed something more, something special that would turn what was basically a glorified grudge into something spectacular; something that would make the blood and bad feeling run like water. It was then that the soul of a slayer became available.

Somewhere up-time a particularly annoying slayer had thrown herself into a Hell-god’s trans-dimensional portal. Thwarting the god’s attempt to get home and co-incidentally saving her pitiful reality form future pain and torment, the slayer’s essence was being held in suspension to be bought by the highest bidder. Much to his joy and surprise, D’Hoffran found himself in possession of the slayer’s spirit, at a knock down price.

Placing the slayer’s ‘soul’ into the body of a normal woman just as the pitiful creature was being raped and killed, D’Hoffran warped reality (a simple task for a demon who regularly changed entire worlds to suit his slightest whim) and implanted memories in the slayer’s mind that would cause her to go on a blood fuelled rampage of vengeance and retribution that would go down in the annuls of the vengeance world and be talked about for centuries.

It had worked too, in fact it had succeeded past D’Hoffran’s wildest hopes. The slayer was a veritable one-woman slaughter machine in her pursuit of vengeance for a family she believed to be her own. Her fame caused others to try to emulate her deeds increasing the death-toll and bad blood between the two warring factions.

However, like all good things, this all came to an end when men in other fields of conflict grew tired of fighting and brought peace back to the land. But still there were men like Senator Farnsworth and Captain Terrill who would fan the embers of vengeance for a little longer. But soon even these driven men would be swept away in the tides of history. Of course others like them would arise else where but for a time all would be peaceful.

Sitting down, D’Hoffran rested his chin in one taloned hand and considered what he was going to do about the slayer. With the hostilities between the two factions slowly cooling he was starting to lose control of the slayer’s mind. What with that pesky slayer resistance to spells and magic in general he was already starting to lose control of her. She was beginning to question her motives and notice inconsistencies in her memories.

Already this very morning she’d begun to think about her real family, something she hardly ever did. On those rare occasions that something had jogged her mind and made her think about her real mother and sister he’d always been able to distract her. But today he had gone too far, he’d put memories in her mind that she knew she shouldn’t have and she’d started to question her entire reason for being. It was only after he’d guided the bushwhackers to Buffy’s camp that he’d been able to regain some control over her, but even then his control wasn’t as complete as it once had been.

No, the demon shook his head sadly, he was slowly losing her. As she rode further away from the seat of his power in this part of this pathetic world his control over her would continue to slip until she once again had the freewill to do as she pleased. What was he to do? He pondered this question for sometime; he could arrange her death or he could allow her to live on. The second option had its attractions, the slayer (while not being particularly bright) had a lot of future knowledge that could tip this world into chaos if it ever got out. The slayer was bound to change history anyway if she continued to live, so…

Sighing, D’Hoffran shrugged, he didn’t know what to do for the best. He wasn’t a particularly vindictive or even ‘evil’ demon; he just gave people what they wanted…whatever the consequences. No, he thought, he’d do nothing and let the Fates decide. The slayer would live or die with no more interference from him, but in the mean time she would still fuel the fires of blood-letting for a small time.

0=0=0=0

**Twenty miles short of the Indian Nations.**

As Buffy had suspected, breakfast had had to wait. It had waited until midday when she’d felt confident that they’d lost any possible tail they might have picked up. Helping Jamie down from his horse she’d examined his wound. It didn’t look good, it had started to bleed again, but at least this time the blood didn’t soak the bandages. After eating the two desperadoes remounted their horses and cantered off in the direction of the Indian Nations which was still a good day’s ride away. Wistfully, Buffy thought that if they’d had her mother’s SUV they’d be in the Indian Nations in less than an hour.

As it was they made good time unhindered by either the cavalry in front of them or the Redlegs behind. As she rode Buffy found herself thinking more and more about her mother and sister…her real mother and sister as she thought of them. Her memories of her husband and children didn’t feel so _real_ anymore, their cries for vengeance were quieter now and not so urgent and not so likely to tip her over the edge into the cold blooded killing rage that had afflicted her these past years; she started to examine what she’d done and it didn’t make her happy. This wasn’t _her_ she told herself, at least she hoped it wasn’t. Sure she’d killed humans in her up-time life, but that had been in self defence or the humans in question had deserved to die. For a moment she worried about having been judge, jury and executioner, but these disturbing thoughts fled from her mind as the first raindrop hit her face.

By the time it was dusk and she decided to stop for the night it was raining heavily, it was the sort of heavy persistent rain that made you wish you had a nice warm barn to shelter in. Soaked to the skin and shivering she helped Jamie down from his horse and then set up a small shelter using their two rubber ground sheets. The shelter kept the worst of the rain off and Buffy even managed to start a fire using some kindling she’d brought with them and managed to keep dry and some broken old boxes she’d found under an overturned wreck of a wagon. After tending to the horses, Buffy came back and tried to cook them a hot meal, basically some broth made out of cut up beef jerky boiled in water.

“Ten or twenty more miles, Jamie,” Buffy tried to make her voice sound light and hopeful, “and we’ll be safe in the nations.”

Once again she checked his dressings, the blood appeared to have stopped, but Jamie now seemed to have a high fever too. Shaking her head, she knew that the boy should be under cover in front of a warm fire instead of sitting out here under a cold, leaky tent. 

“Here,” Buffy helped Jamie drink some of the watery broth she’d made, “drink some of this it’ll help make you feel warm inside.”

Lifting Jamie’s head and shoulders up, Buffy helped him drink, he smiled his thanks at her as she took the tin mug from his lips.

“Look,” Buffy had a strange urge to fill the silence that had fallen over their little camp, “I think that cavalry is a little ways up ahead,” she explained, “I’m going to take a look. If they’re there we’ll wait ‘til they bed down then sneak through in the rain.” Buffy smiled encouragingly, “By morning we’ll be in the Nations and you can rest up and get well again. You feel alright?”

“I feel real good, Buffy,” Jamie smiled up at her his eyes shining in the firelight, “We’ve got ‘em whupped…” Jamie coughed and small spots of blood appeared on his lips, “…Buffy, I wanna thank you.”

“For what?” Buffy frowned as she fought to keep the tears from her eyes.

“For saving my life,” Jamie said quietly.

“Forget about it Jamie,” Buffy sort out his hand and held it tightly for a moment.

“You know something Buffy?” Jamie sighed, “I ain’t scared no more.”

“That’s good,” Buffy nodded, “now you wait here I won’t be gone long.”

Putting on her hat, Buffy crawled out of the tent and into the rain again. Quickly she walked away from the tent and towards where she suspected the cavalry to be. As she moved she tried not to think about whether Jamie would be alive when she got back; she also tried to suppress the thoughts that were telling her how much easier it would be without Jamie to slow her down.

No, that wasn’t her either; she felt sure she wasn’t the type of person who’d leave a friend behind. Just like she knew she really wasn’t the kind of person who killed people for the sake of vengeance. As she moved through the rainy darkness she knew she’d have to leave that life behind. From now on she’d only kill in self defence or to protect one of her friends, knowing she only had one friend in the entire world Buffy realised that the body count was going to go down dramatically in the near future.

Coming to a river, Buffy hid behind a large bush and watched the cavalry camp on the further shore. There were about half a dozen tents which meant about thirty to forty men. All she could see of the enemy force were a couple of damp guards trying not to get too wet and not really paying very much attention to what was going on around them. Smiling to herself, Buffy could see that Jamie and herself could easily sneak around this detachment if they crossed the river a little further down stream. After bypassing the camp they could rejoin the track a little further on and be in the Nations by morning.

Turning her back on the cavalry camp, Buffy made her way back to her own little camp; she knew well before she’d got to the tent that Jamie was dead. He’d died alone while she was out looking for the cavalry. Ducking under the rubber sheets doing duty as a tent, Buffy sat down beside Jamie’s body and searched out his hand. Holding it tightly in her own she sobbed for her only friend. As her tears mixed with the rain drops on her face, part of her mind called to her to exact terrible vengeance on the enemy. Another part of her mind told her that the time for vengeance had passed and the only thing she needed to do was to send Jamie on his way the best she could.

0=0=0=0

After breaking camp, Buffy heaved Jamie’s body up onto his horse and tied it to his saddle. Standing by the body draped horse, Buffy paused, she felt she needed to say something even though she doubted that there was any one other than herself to hear.

“This boy was brought up in a time of blood and dying,” Buffy began, “and he never questioned his part in it. He never turned his back on his family or friends.” Buffy paused thinking what more could she say, “I rode with him and I’ve got no complaints…” Patting the dead boys shoulder, Buffy brought her mouth near his ear, “The bluebellies will give you a better burial than I ever could, good luck Jamie and thanks.”

After kissing his cold, wet cheek, Buffy drew her pistol and fired it scaring the horse into a gallop that would take it through the middle of the Union camp. Mounting her own horse, Buffy waited and watched as Jamie and his horse galloped between the cavalry tents and the guards fired wildly at the fleeing horseman. Very soon there were troopers tumbling from their tents pulling on boots and jackets as the struggled to bring their carbines to bear on the fast moving shape in the watery dawn light.

Urging her own horse forward, Buffy crossed the river a little down stream from the camp. As soon as she heard the sound of horses in hot pursuit of Jamie’s horse, she put her heels to the flanks of her horse and cantered into the darkness unnoticed. Thanks to the death of her friend she’d be safe by morning.

0=0=0=0

Shaking his head in a mixture of sorrow and frustration, D’Hoffran felt the last vestiges of his control over Buffy vanish as she crossed the river. Being a free agent now there was little he could do to influence her actions…unless…

A smile spread slowly across his demonic visage, of course he’d not thought of it until now, how foolish of him. If he wanted to continue influencing the slayer’s actions all he needed to do was to send one of his Earthly agents after her. Who knew what death and torment might ensue!

0=0=0=0


	6. Chapter 6

6.

**The Indian Nations.**

As Buffy rode deeper into the Indian Nations she started to feel more like her old self than she had done for nearly four years. Now being able to remember her mother and sister clearly and not have her memories ‘interrupted’ by the memories of her past-time family, made her think. It made her wonder why she’d not been able to remember clearly about her real family before. It made her question her feelings over the last four years that had caused her to fight and kill so many people. 

Thirty of forty people had fallen to Buffy’s revolvers in that time and she’d killed another twenty or so with her bare hands. Although she had no problem killing people, just ask the Knights of Byzantium and other people she’d ‘let’ die, that had been in self defence and to protect her friends and family, but this…

Frowning as she rode along, Buffy tried to tell herself that someone or something had set her up. Someone had put her into a situation that would force her to kill or be killed, that seemed to be only answer. Her last memories of her own time were of her kissing her sister goodbye and then running and jumping off Glory’s tower. Falling she’d entered the portal, it would appear that not only had she saved the world by closing the portal, she’d also been transported here. The question was; was this the _real_ past or was it a demon inspired version of the past? Was she a victim of circumstance or was she the victim of some violent, demonic joke, or perhaps a little of both. Either way she couldn’t really blame herself for what she’d done over the last four years, but she would.

Whatever, Buffy sighed tiredly as she brought her horse to a halt and looked around, she didn’t have much of an idea where she was just now. Okay, she was somewhere in the Nations, but she had no idea if there was a town, farm or trading post close by. She did know that there was a thin trail of smoke rising from the area of scrub-woods about half-a-mile in front of her. Perhaps there was a farm, maybe she could pay the owner to let her sleep in his barn or something. Both herself and her horse needed rest and something to eat. Too tired to even mourn the death of her only friend in this strange and possibly demonic world, Buffy urged her horse on to make one last effort before they both ground to a halt and she fell from her saddle. Even a slayer couldn’t go on forever without proper rest.

0=0=0=0

Stepping out of his outhouse, Lone Watie picked up the musket he kept near him at all times and studied the bush that surrounded his little cabin. He'd been sure he’d heard a horse approaching. Moving slowly and quietly, he walked towards his home all the time keeping his eyes and ears open for danger. These were dangerous times, although the white man’s war was over there were still a lot of people around with scores to settle and an old, lone Indian had to be careful.

Catching a sight of something moving between the stunted trees, Lone Watie halted and brought his musket up to the ‘ready’. Sure enough, he’d been right it was a horse. The animal cantered out from under the trees and towards his cabin, but there was no rider on the animal’s back, the saddle was empty. As Lone Watie stood there slightly bemused at his good fortune, he’d lost his own horse months ago and he’d wanted a replacement for some time. He then heard the unmistakeable sound of a revolver being cocked right behind him, instantly he froze.

“Hi,” Buffy announced her presence to the old Indian; he was dressed in a black frock coat and a stove pipe hat, not a typical Indian outfit she observed to herself. 

“Howdy,” Lone Watie stood perfectly still and wondered who the woman’s voice that had made his blood turn to ice-water belonged to, he soon found out.

“Hi,” Buffy repeated, “my name’s Buffy Summers…”

“I’ve heard that name,” Lone Watie relaxed a little, “some said you’d be headed this way and they said a man could get rich on reward money…” Lone Watie turned his head a little and looked at Buffy for the first time, “…if he could kill you.”

“Looks like you were totally trying to get some reward money,” Buffy pointed out keeping her revolver pointing at the old man’s head.

“Actually,” sighed the Indian, “I was looking to gain an edge.” Lone Watie shook his head in sorrow, “I thought you might be the sort of woman who’d sneak up behind me with a gun.”

“Now where’d you totally get an idea like that?” Buffy relaxed a little, she was starting to like the old man. “Like, its not supposed to be easy to sneak up on a Native American.”

“A what?” Lone Watie looked over his shoulder at Buffy and frowned.

“Sorry,” Buffy shrugged, “I meant Indian.”

“I’m an Indian alright,” Lone Watie admitted, “But here in the Nations they call us the civilised tribes. They call us ‘civilised’ because we’re easy to sneak up on. The White man has been sneaking up on us for years…”

Relaxing a little more, Buffy listened as the old man went into some long winded, rambling story about all the woes of his life, she zoned out after the first couple of sentences. Carefully releasing the hammer of her revolver so she wouldn’t blow the old man’s head off by accident, Buffy slipped her pistol back into its holster. While the old Indian went on with his story she silently stepped away from him and walked towards what must be his cabin.

“…and now the white man, has been sneaking up on me again.” Not having heard the strange young woman say anything for some time, Lone Watie turned to find that she’d vanished, he looked around but couldn’t see any trace of her.

Hearing the sound made by the horse as it moved, Lone Watie turned towards his cabin to see Buffy lead her horse over to the little house. Still clutching his musket he hurried over to where she was tying her horse to the hitching rail outside his cabin and start to take the saddle from the animal’s back.

“Looks like we can’t trust the white man,” Buffy observed as she heaved the saddle from her horse’s back and rested it across the hitching rail.

“You bet we can’t,” Lone Watie agreed as he watched Buffy start to brush down her horse.

As Buffy worked on caring for her horse she listened with half an ear as the old Indian told her some tail about going to Washington before the war. Whatever the reason, the result of this meeting at the Department of the Interior was that the Indians had declared war on the Union. He was still talking when she’d finished brushing down her horse. Putting the horse brush away in her saddle bags, Buffy stepped up onto the porch of the cabin. There against the cabin wall was a bed like affair, it looked awfully comfortable, slowly she sat down and sighed with relief.

Resting back on the bed, Buffy repositioned her hat so that I would shade her eyes and crossed her hands over her stomach. Closing her eyes she listened as the old Indian droned on and on, worse even than Giles. His voice had a soporific effect on her as her eyes grew heavy and she slowly drifted off to sleep. Lone Watie only stopped talking when he heard Buffy start to snore. Shaking his head, he turned away and led Buffy’s horse around to the back of the cabin where it wouldn’t be seen and gave it some oats to eat.

0=0=0=0

Buffy woke up to the smell of burning frock coat and stove pipe hat. Shifting onto her back, she’d rolled over in her sleep, she opened her eyes to see a Horny Toad just in front of her face. Resisting the urge to scream like a little girl and ruin her ‘street-cred’, Buffy yawned and sat up.

“What time is it?” she asked as she stretched cramped muscles, she noticed that the old Indian who’d called himself Lone Watie had put a blanket over her.

“You slept the clock ‘round,” Lone Watie informed her.

Looking at the old man, Buffy noticed that he seemed to be dressed for travelling. He wore a jacket made out of some sort of animal pelt, a wide brimmed hat, he clutched his musket and had a blanket roll resting at his feet. She also noticed that he’d saddled her horse for her.

“Uh-huh,” Buffy replied still a little groggy from her long sleep.

“A horned toad can tell you which way to go,” Lone Watie informed Buffy as she sat up and stretched and scratched. “the horned toad says we should go to Mexico.”

“Well, Mr Lone Watie,” Buffy pushed herself to her feet and ran her fingers through her dirty, knotted hair and wished she had a shower or better yet a bath, “you can totally take your horned toad down Mexico way, I’m going…”

Buffy’s voice faded away to nothing as she realised that she didn’t know where she was going. Up to a day or so ago the answer would have been simple; she’d rest up here for a day or two then ride back to Missouri and shoot down the Redleg scum who’d killed her fellow guerrillas. But now…but now, that didn’t seem so important any more. She’d been tired of fighting when she’d jumped off Glory’s tower; perhaps that was one reason she’d gone to her ‘death’ so willingly, she was just so tired of always fighting. Then there’d been four years of war here. No, Buffy shook her head, she was tired of fighting, at least for now. Going somewhere and not fighting sounded like a good idea, maybe she would go with Lone Watie down to Mexico.

“…I never surrendered...” Lone Watie had continued talking while Buffy was thinking and she’d sort of lost track of what he was saying.

“What?” Buffy asked hoping for enlightenment.

“…but they made my horse surrender,” Lone Watie said sadly, “they have him pulling a wagon up in Kansas I bet.”

“So,” Buffy moved towards her own horse, “you totally haven’t got a horse. What were you going to do, walk all the way down to Mexico?”

“No,” Lone Watie pointed off into the woods, “there’s a trading post right next to the Creek Nation, they have horses to trade.”

“You have any food here?” Buffy wanted to know; she’d already decided to accompany the old man at least as far as this trading post.

“All I have is a piece of hard rock candy,” Lone Watie held it up to show Buffy, “but its not for eating, its for looking through.”

“Alright,” Buffy sighed before turning and swinging herself up into her saddle, “I’ll get you a horse.”

Turning her horse’s head in the direction that Lone Watie had indicated, Buffy trotted off through the trees with Lone Watie following on behind her.

0=0=0=0

Riding her horse out of the woods, Buffy found herself in a wide valley surrounded by low hills. The edges of the valley were covered in pine trees while the floor was covered in long grass. Down by the river, little more than a stream really, she saw a long, low house with a corral containing two or three horses. Riding over to the trading post, Buffy came upon a man, who was obviously the owner, beating on an Indian Squaw with a piece of wood. Bringing her horse to a halt, Buffy stared down at the man as she nonchalantly rested her hand on the butt of one of her revolvers. 

The man smiled up at her guiltily and then said something to the Squaw that Buffy didn’t quite catch. The post's owner hurriedly disappeared into his trading post as the squaw hurried off into what looked like a store room attached to the main part of the post. Climbing down from her horse and tying her reins to one of the posts of the corral she ran her eyes over the three horses there.

Satisfied that the horses where worth buying, Buffy turned to see the squaw enter the main part of the trading post. Glancing around Buffy looked back along the way she’d come, her sharp eyes could just pick out the little figure of Lone Watie as he walked along the trail towards the post. Deciding not to wait for the old man to catch up, she walked over to the door of the post and kicked it open. Resting her hands on her gunbelt close to the butts of two of her pistols, Buffy strode in through the doorway, for a moment she paused to let her eyes adjust from the bright sunlight of the valley to the dark interior of the cabin. Walking further into the building she took stock of the scene that greeted her.

The inside of the trading post was dim and full of strange objects and smells. Over by a counter that divided off about a quarter of the available space stood the post’s owner. Over in the far corner were two of his customers, trappers by the looks of them, who were busily molesting the squaw. Buffy turned her eyes on the post’s owner like they were two gun turrets.

“I want to buy a horse,” Buffy told the owner.

“A horse?” the owner asked nervously, “the horses belong to these two gentlemen,” he pointed over to the two trappers. “I’m sure they’d sell you one…”

Buffy walked over to where the trappers where struggling with the squaw, the girl looked up at her with silent pleading eyes. Turning away Buffy looked back at the owner.

“You happen to know when these two _gentleman_ ” Buffy made the word sound like an insult, “will be available to do business?”

Hearing another woman’s voice one of the trappers looked up at Buffy. Slowly he climbed off the squaw and headed over towards the counter.

“Give me some o’ that beer,” he demanded; the owner passed him a jug of beer.

Using drinking from the jug as cover the trapper pulled his revolver and pointed it at Buffy.

“I got her!” the trapper yelled as he held his gun on Buffy, “I’ve got me Buffy Summers! Five thousand gold simoleans just walked right in.”

“Are you sure you guys wanna do this?” Buffy asked with infinite weariness, “I just know this is going to end badly…” then she added to herself, “...for you,”

The three men in the trading post started to argue amongst themselves over how to split the reward while Buffy watched and listened with growing impatience.

“Missy Chain Blue Lightning herself,” announced one of the trappers.

“Look guys,” Buffy warned, “you really don’t want to do this,” she shrugged, “I mean I just came in here to buy a horse and you go round pulling guns on me…”

“Wonder why everyone’s so scared,” sniggered one of the trappers, “she ain’t nothin’ but a little bitty girl!”

“Hey!” Buffy warned as she slowly moved backwards a little so she could see both of the trappers, “Watch who you’re calling ‘little’!”

“Well, Missy Lightning,” the trapper said taking an even firmer grip on his pistol, “move a muscle, twitch a finger and I’ll…”

Not waiting to find out what the trapper intended to do, Buffy pulled one of her pistols and shot the man in the head. Before the other trapper could react to the suddenly changed state of affairs, Buffy’d pulled a second revolver and blown a neat hole right between his eyes.

“Told them it’d end badly,” Buffy said to the post’s owner whom she’d not shot because he’d not pointed a weapon at her, “now,” she smiled at the owner as she put away her guns, “about those horses?”

0=0=0=0


	7. Chapter 7

7.

**The Indian Nations.**

Walking away from the trading post and back towards where his men waited, Captain Terrill looked up at Fletcher who’d not even bothered to dismount.

“From what the manager of the tradin’ post says,” Terrill began, “Summers just burst into his store gunned down two trappers in cold blood and then kidnapped some no account squaw.”

Raising an eyebrow at Terrill, Fletcher shook his head, this didn’t sound like the Buffy Summers he knew; she might be a cold blooded fighter but she’d never killed anyone for no reason.

“She did, did she?” Fletcher looked down at the officer and forced himself to keep a straight face, sometimes it was difficult not to laugh at Terrill he was so foolish.

“She’s bound to still be around here some place,” Terrill pointed out as he mounted up, “we’ll soon find her she can’t have gone far.” Fletcher turned his horse and started to ride away, Terrill called out after him, “Where the hell are you goin’ Fletcher?”

“I’m headin’ south,” Fletcher replied, “why don’t you stay here Redlegs? Summers may be back in a year or two.”

“Right you men!” Terrill shouted, he might be foolish but he wasn’t completely stupid, “we’re heading south! Five thousand dollars to the man who gets Summers!”

0=0=0=0

**Perseverance, Texas.**

The town of Perseverance was a typical flyblown, frontier town. It consisted of one street about fifty yards wide, which as they entered the town was being used as a horse track by half a dozen drunken cowboys. The place smelled of crap both human and animal, it was too hot and it was very dusty, Buffy wished she was home; you didn’t appreciate air conditioning until you were melting under the noon sun in some dead and alive hole like Perseverance.

It had taken Buffy, Lone Watie and the squaw, Little Moonlight until summer to get this far south. In all that time they’d seen no sign of pursuit, although Buffy was convinced someone was still on her trail. Mostly they’d stayed away from towns, buying supplies from farms and ranches along the way. But now they needed supplies you couldn’t buy off a farmer so they’d had to come into a town and Perseverance was it.

The town was busy, which was good because it meant that no one was paying very much attention to the girl riding with the old Indian and a squaw. Looking around Buffy saw a lot of ex-Confederate soldiers with nothing to do other than walk around the town or wait for the saloon to open. There were a fair few Union soldiers too, not exactly patrolling the street, but there were too many around for their presence to go unnoticed.

Pulling up her horse, Buffy waited for one of the drunken, cowboy, jockeys to go by, he didn’t. Falling from his horse the cowboy sprawled in the dust near Buffy’s horse’s feet. Looking down at him Buffy thought that he might look quite handsome if he wasn’t drunk and took three or four baths to remove the dust and grim from his skin. Feeling stirrings in her body that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time, Buffy urged her horse on a little further down the street. Gesturing to a hitching rail, she led her little party over to it before dismounting and securing her horse.

“Moonlight,” Buffy looked at the Indian girl, she didn’t speak English but appeared to understand it well enough, “you stay here with the horses and totally keep out of trouble.”

The girl nodded her agreement.

“Chief,” Buffy had taken to calling Lone Watie, ‘Chief’ because he’d claimed to be a Chief of his people to impress Moonlight and get her to share his blankets at night; keeping warm wasn’t the only thing they did under those blankets either. “You take a look around town while I go to the store,” Buffy pointed to the general store down the street aways, “keep you eyes open for trouble and find me if you find it.”

“You sure you don’t want me to watch your back?” Lone Watie asked.

“Like, why would I need you to watch my back?” Buffy wanted to know, “I’m totally going shopping, not to a gun fight.”

“Whatever,” Lone Watie shrugged (lately he’d been picking up on some of Buffy’s mode of speech). 

After checking that her pistols were all in easy reach and that she had money in the pocket of her jacket, Buffy walked slowly along the boardwalk towards the store. Stopping outside she took a moment to peer in through the windows, apart from a couple of old guys buying supplies and the store keeper the shop looked empty, obviously a slow day. However, the storekeeper looked prosperous enough as did his shop. Turning again to watch the street, Buffy’s eyes quickly checked on the position of all the blue uniformed troopers within sight. It was then she noticed the four troopers walking across the street towards the saloon; she noted these especially because they wore dark red, leather leggings…Redlegs!

Tearing her eyes away from the Redlegs, Buffy found herself staring into the stern, grey eyes of an old woman. The old woman was probably only in her sixties (people aged faster in the past Buffy had discovered), her grey hair was drawn back into a tight bun on the back of her head. The old woman seemed to be inspecting Buffy with disapproval as she stood there not two feet in front of her.

“Why aren’t you at home looking after you husband and children, young woman?” the grey haired woman demanded, “Instead of standing there trying to look and act like a man.”

“My husband and children were killed in the war Ma’am,” Buffy replied returning the woman’s stare without flinching; of course she now realised that her ‘husband and children’ weren’t really hers, but she’d use them if it mean she could make this old bitch back off.

The old woman threw back her head, tutted in disgust and continued on her way into the store. It was only then that Buffy noticed the girl who was following the old woman. The girl was about Buffy’s height and like herself a blonde; she was aged about seventeen and was just a little skinny. She smiled shyly at Buffy as she followed the old woman into the store. Once again Buffy felt stirrings she hadn’t felt for a long time; she took a deep breath and shook her head trying to rid it of her troubled thoughts. After waiting a couple of minutes and checking out the street once more, Buffy turned and walked into the store.

0=0=0=0

“The wheat is from Kansas and the molasses comes from Missouri,” Buffy heard the storekeeper explain as she walked into the relative cool of the store.

“We’ll do without molasses,” snapped the same old woman who had berated Buffy for not caring for her non-existent husband and children. “Anything from Missouri has a taint about it,” she added as she searched in her handbag for money to pay the storekeeper. “We’re from Kansas,” the old woman gestured to the men Buffy had seen earlier, “Jayhawkers and proud of it.”

Sniggering to herself, Buffy looked past the old woman to where the girl stood meekly waiting for her older relative to finish alienating half the population of the town. She found herself staring at the girl and what was more interesting, having her looks returned. Dragging her eyes away from the girl, Buffy wondered what was coming over her. Once again shaking her head like a horse annoyed by a particularly persistent fly, she waited for the old woman and her clique to leave before approaching the storekeeper herself.

“That old lady better look out,” the storekeeper told Buffy after she’d handed him her list of supply requirements, “talking like that, too many folks ‘round here with thin skins,” he told Buffy as he started to make up her order. “Lots of Southern boys been getting into trouble too,” the storekeeper seemed to like talking, so Buffy let him; it was all useful information. “Colin Baker for one and Captain Lee fightin’ it out in Fannin County,” the storekeeper weighed out some coffee beans, “Bill Longley, Creed Taylor and all those other Taylors out in Gonzalez. Killed Simp Dixon over in Cotton Ginney…”

The storekeeper rambled on not making very much sense unless you knew who all these people were, Buffy started to think that maybe the storekeeper wasn’t quite as useful a source of information as she'd hoped. It took a moment for her to realise that the storekeeper had in fact stopped talking.

“…Buffy Summers,” the storekeeper gazed off into the distance as he spoke and Buffy’s right hand started to edge towards one of her pistols.

“Say what?” Buffy whispered.

“Buffy Summers,” the storekeeper grinned at Buffy, “They say she’s headin’ into Texas…won’t come through here thought…” Buffy was relieved to hear that she wasn’t in town, “…killed fifty or sixty men, so they say. Regulators are out all over the place looking for her.”

Time to leave Buffy told herself, “How much for all this stuff,” she gestured to the packages lying on the store's counter.

“Three Dollars,” the storekeeper replied; Buffy placed the coins on the counter. “Those regulators would sure pay plenty to the man who could identify Buffy Summers.”

“Totally,” Buffy agreed as she hurriedly picked up her packages and headed for the door.

Once out in the harsh sunlight of the street again, Buffy checked for speeding horses before crossing the street towards the gun store; she needed cartridges for her pistols. Perhaps she’d not been looking where she was going, maybe she was still a little taken aback by what the storekeeper had said. Whatever the reason she didn’t notice the white suited carpetbagger until she’d almost walked right into him.

“And how about you Miss?” the carpetbagger appeared in front of Buffy clutching a bottle of his ‘Elixir’ in his hand, “Just a few bottles left…” Buffy tried to ignore the man but he wouldn’t be ignored, “…you won’t regret it…it’s perfect for those special ‘women’s ailments’,” the carpetbagger winked at her, “if you know what I mean?” 

Doing her best to take no notice of the man, Buffy walked on towards the boardwalk, stepping up from the street, she felt an almost irresistible urge to turn around and look at the carpetbagger. Giving in to the urge, she turned to find the carpetbagger still standing in the middle of the street holding up his bottle of ‘snake-oil’. He appeared to be trying to place Buffy’s face, just moments later he did.

“Oh my God!” gasped the carpetbagger loudly, “It’s BUFFY SUMMERS!”

Looking to her left Buffy saw four Federal troopers stop as they were about to walk away from her, they turned to stare at her quizzically. In the street Lone Watie and Moonlight looked over towards where Buffy stood, Lone Watie began to move to bring himself closer to the young woman whom he now considered a friend.

Looking at the troopers dispassionately, Buffy waited for them to make the first move. It was obvious that the troopers weren’t too sure what was going on here. They exchanged hesitant glances as they’d turned to face her. Lone Watie was now standing in the street to the trooper's left and Buffy’s right. Eventually, Buffy couldn’t take the suspense any longer and sighed heavily.

“You goin’ to totally pull those pistols or whistle Dixie?” 

Later Buffy was almost sure she’d heard someone whistle the first few notes of ‘Dixie’. However, the sound was soon lost in the noise and confusion as she dropped her shopping, hauled a couple of pistols from their resting places and started to shoot. Three troopers fell in rapid succession to her bullets. A forth fell to a shot from Lone Watie who stood in the street pointing his pistol towards the now downed troopers.

Running across the street towards her horse, Buffy pushed the carpetbagger aside causing him to trip and fall into a pile of horse manure. Running on across the dusty street, she got to her horse and mounted up before heading out of town as fast as her horse could gallop. Lone Watie quickly followed Buffy’s example by mounting up and following her dust out onto the plain surrounding the town.

As the two fugitives took flight, the trooper’s friends mounted up to give chase, they were slowed down by Moonlight as she rode her horse and pulled the pack horse into the path of the pursuing troopers. The Sergeant in charge struck at Moonlight with the barrel of his carbine, knocking her from her saddle and leaving her sprawling in the dust as he led his men after the killers.

0=0=0=0

After a hard ride, Buffy calculated that she’d lost any pursuit and slowed her horse to a more sedate pace; not long afterwards she found Lone Watie riding beside her.

“Welcome to Texas, Mr Lone Watie,” Buffy said with heavy sarcasm.

“I guess we ain’t gonna be seeing that little Navajo girl again,” Lone Watie sighed sadly as he referred to Moonlight.

“Doubt it,” Buffy agreed before admitting, “I totally liked her…but it’s always like that.”

“Like what?” Lone Watie asked.

“Whenever I get to like, ‘liking’ someone,” Buffy thought back to the boyfriends and lovers she’d had, “they’re not around for long.”

“I notice,” Lone Watie observed, “that when you get to not liking someone they ain’t around for long neither.”

“Totally,” Buffy shrugged.

“How did you know which one was goin’ to shoot first?” Lone Watie asked wanting to know what went through Buffy’s mind before a fight began, what gave her an ‘edge’.

“Like, the one in the centre had a flap holster, he was in no hurry to do anything,” Buffy explained, “The guy second from the left, he had scared eyes, like he wasn’t going to do anything either…” Buffy sighed and took a breath, “…but the one on the far left…he had crazy eyes. He'd totally be the first to make a move.”

“How about the one on the right?” Lone Watie asked.

“Never bothered about him,” Buffy grinned at the old Indian, “you where there.”

There was a long silence before Lone Watie said, “I could have missed!”

0=0=0=0

“Well, not a hard woman to track,” Captain Terrill announced as he and his men sat their horses in the body littered main street or Perseverance, “leaves dead men wherever she goes.” Terrill paused before turning to Fletcher, “She’s heading north now, riding with a renegade Indian.”

“She’s headin’ north now,” Fletcher explained, “but she’ll turn southwest and head for Mexico.”

“Then we’ll turn southwest and head for Mexico too,” Terrill quickly changed his mind.

“Tell your men to head north,” Fletcher replied angrily.

“What are you talking about?” Terrill demanded.

“Look at those boys over there,” Fletcher jerked his thumb over his shoulder, Terrill turned his head to see what Fletcher was talking about, “Bounty Hunters…come out of a war, got no other way to make a living, they all want that money you’ve got on Summers’ head.” Fletcher turned to look at Terrill again, “You and me didn’t ride all this way for that…” Fletcher shook his head sadly, he’d never wanted it to end like this, he’d been betrayed as much as Buffy had, “I don’t want to _hear_ Summers’ is dead, I want to _see_ Summers’ dead.”

0=0=0=0


	8. Chapter 8

8.

Crouching in the sand Lone Watie pressed his ear to the ground; he straightened up at Buffy’s approach.

“They’re following us,” he announced before resting his head against the ground once more, “Couple of horses…far off…moving fast.”

“I can’t hear anything,” Buffy turned her head to look back the way they’d just ridden.

“Got to be an Indian to know those things,” Lone Watie informed her smugly.

“Yeah right,” Buffy eyed Lone Watie sceptically; looking around at the semi-desert they’d been riding through she caught sight of some sand dunes less than half a mile away. “Let’s take to the dunes and set a trap.”

Remounting their horses the two riders made off towards the dunes. Once on the soft sand their horses left tracks even a blind man could follow. They rode on occasionally stopping at the top of a dune to check on their pursuers. Sure enough Buffy’s sharp eyes picked out two horsemen dogging their trail. Deciding that they’d played this game long enough, Buffy led the way down the dune and along a defile between two more massive sand hills. Eventually Buffy and Lone Watie came to the edge of the dune sea where sage brush held the sand in place. Riding around a bush covered dune, she was surprised to see Lone Watie jump from his horse and run up the slope, obviously the old Indian thought he had something to prove and was going to spring the ambush himself.

Hiding at the top the dune Lone Watie saw the rider’s approach, now the horses were closer he could see that it was in fact a lone rider leading a pack horse. Never mind, he told himself as he gathered himself ready to spring the trap. The rider grew closer and closer following the hoof marks in the sand. Crouching in amongst the sage bush, Lone Watie readied himself and waited until the rider was right below him before he jumped.

Flying through the air from the top of the dune, Lone Watie hit the rider and knocked him from his horse. After the rider’s initial surprise at being attacked, Lone Watie soon found himself getting the worst of the fight. The rider was strong and quick and soon fought free of Lone Watie’s embrace. Finding himself under his victim, he looked up to see a flash of metal as the rider raised a knife ready to plunge it into his heart. He would have died there and then if Buffy hadn’t come up behind the rider and grabbed hold of Moonlight’s arm preventing her from stabbing Lone Watie to death.

“Glad you stopped me when you did,” Lone Watie said with all the bravado he could muster, “I might have killed her.”

“Totally,” Buffy replied dubiously as she pulled Moonlight to her feet and off Lone Watie.

For a moment, Lone Watie lay on the sand staring up at the sky and wondering what had happened to all the ‘medicine’ he’d once been endowed with. He sighed as he slowly pushed himself to his feet, he’d got old that’s what had happened.

0=0=0=0

Reunited the three riders rode back out into the semi-desert until they found an area of trees where a small clear stream ran down the side of a mountain before it gurgled under a rock and disappeared underground. Talking through Lone Watie, Buffy discovered what had happened to Moonlight. After holding up the posse for as long as she could, the Indian girl had collected up her horse and their pack horse, retrieved the supplies that Buffy had dropped and headed on out of town. Following their trail as best she could, Moonlight had eventually spotted them and given chase only then to be jumped on and attacked by Lone Watie.

Feeling tired after listening to Moonlight’s tale, Buffy wrapped herself in her blankets, rested her head on her saddle and smiled. They were an odd bunch; the old Indian, Lone Watie, the rather plump Moonlight and herself, the short blonde homicidal maniac. They’d even picked up a dog somewhere along the trail. Wriggling about as she tried to get comfortable, Buffy’s last thoughts as she drifted off to sleep were of her mother, sister and her friends in Sunnydale.

As Buffy slept she dreamed of being home again, of being with her sister and friends again, of her mom still being alive to look after her and even Giles’ lectures. But it was all just a dream, deep down Buffy knew she’d never get home again…when and wherever home might be. She was stuck here in the past so she'd better make the most of it and make a life for herself here.

0=0=0=0

The following morning found the little party riding across an area of what looked like baked mud. Dust rose from the horse’s hooves as they walked along, up ahead the dog zigzagged backwards and forwards with its nose to the ground in search of who knew what. Leading the pack horse, Moonlight cried out in surprise, she rode a couple of horse lengths out in front of Buffy, jumped from her horse and pointed excitedly to the ground. There at her feet were tracks, cart tracks. A torrent of words flowed from the girl’s mouth the only word of which Buffy could make out was ‘Comancheros’.

“Comancheros,” Lone Watie repeated as he started to translate, “trade liquor, guns and women to Ten Bears of the Comanche for horses.”

“Women?” Buffy asked, she’d not even met the man and she was already starting to dislike this Ten Bears guy. “You mean like women for slaves right? He doesn’t buy them off these Comancheros, free them and send them home, right?”

Lone Watie frowned and shook his head.

“Didn’t think so,” Buffy's jaw set in a determined line, “this Ten Bears better watch out if I ever catch him.” Buffy gestured to the tracks, “How many?”

“Six,” Lone Watie studied the tracks for a moment longer, “maybe nine horses and a couple of carts.”

Right at this moment Moonlight pointed off towards a low bluff where smoke rose slowly into the air.

“Comancheros?” Buffy asked and got an answering nod from Moonlight, “Let’s go see what they’re cooking.”

Turning her horse’s head towards the smoke, Buffy automatically started to check her weapons as she rode along. If, no make that ‘when’, there was trouble she wanted to be ready.

0=0=0=0

Dismounting, Buffy and Lone Watie climbed to the top of a step ridge that overlooked the narrow valley where the Comancheros had stopped to torment their captives. Looking down on the scene Buffy saw three carts nine or ten horses, some draft oxen and maybe nine Comancheros. She also saw two men who’d been staked out spread eagled in the sun and obviously tortured to death; she also saw the old woman from the town, the one who’d asked Buffy where her husband and children where.

“Don’t look so proud now do you Mrs Jayhawker?” Buffy muttered surprising herself with her hard and uncharitable thoughts.

The Comancheros were having fun opening trunks and scattering their contents all over the desert. Sighing Buffy started to back away thinking they were too late and there wasn’t much she or anyone could do now. Even if she tried to rescue the old woman the chances were the Comancheros would kill her long before she could rescue her. No, it was best to save her ammunition and try again another day. Just as she was about to back away from the crest of the ridge, Buffy froze as she realised just how ‘cold’ her heart had become over the years. She was supposed to be a ‘hero’; she was supposed to at least try whatever the odds, even if she knew she’d ultimately fail, she was supposed to give it one good shot.

Sighing heavily, Buffy lay back down on the sand and went on watching the Comancheros and their victims. At the moment the bandits appeared to have forgotten about the old woman. Studying the ground, Buffy thought that she might be able to get down into the valley without the Comancheros noticing her. Once she was up close and personnel their lives wouldn’t be worth spit. The sound of a piano being thrown out of the back of one of the carts drew Buffy’s eye away from where the old woman lay.

A good half of the Comancheros were clustered around the back of a covered wagon from which the piano had been dumped. Obviously there was something very interesting in the back of that wagon. For a moment Buffy wondered what it could be. Sudden realisation struck her as she grasped that something had been missing from the scene below. Quickly Buffy’s eyes sort out what she was looking for; the girl, the skinny blonde girl was nowhere to be seen. 

Quickly Buffy’s eyes darted back to the wagon; a couple of the Comancheros had climbed inside and were struggling with something or someone inside. Moments later the girl was thrown out of the back of the wagon and onto the sand. The bandits closed in on her immediately and started to tear at her clothes and paw her flesh. Standing up Buffy knew she couldn’t just lie there and watch the girl being gang raped. Her first instinct was to rush down the slope guns blazing which would probably end up with her getting shot. A major lesson that she’d learnt from living in the past was that being the slayer didn’t make you invulnerable to bullets. No she needed an edge for this to turn out well.

Looking around, Buffy saw the position of the sun relative to the valley. If she approached from the open end the sun would be behind her which was always good. Running down to where Moonlight held the horses, Buffy leaped into the saddle. Turning her horse she saw Lone Watie puffing and panting as he tried to keep up with her.

“You guys totally watch my back, okay?” Buffy called as she pulled a couple of her pistols free from their holsters.

Nodding his head, Lone Watie clambered up onto his own horse as he watched Buffy ride off leaving a trail of dust behind her.

“Better watch out,” Lone Watie told the world, “Hell is coming for breakfast!”

0=0=0=0

Holding her horse’s reins between her teeth and with a pistol in each hand, Buffy rode into the valley with the sun at her back. Shooting down two bandits before they even knew that they were under attack, she used her knees to steer her horse behind one of the abandoned carts. The Comancheros, now alerted to her presence drew their guns and waited for her to reappear from behind the wagon. 

Having unexpectedly doubled back on herself, Buffy reappeared just when the bandits were watching the opposite end of the cart. Buffy’s pistols spoke, first the one in her right hand then the one in her left, two more bandits fell to her deadly aim. Firing wildly at the lone rider the Comancheros spread out so as not to give Buffy such a good target. It did them little good as she wove her horse between the carts making herself a fleeting target for merely human eyes. 

A bandit climbed on top of one of the carts and raised a rifle as he tried to draw a bead on the fast moving rider. Two rounds hit him square in the chest and he dropped his rifle as he twisted and tumbled from off the top of the cart. By now there were only three bandits left standing, realising that the battle was unexpectedly not going their way, two of them tried for their horses. Galloping up behind the men Buffy shot them at point blank range in the back. The two men crumpled to the ground and slid through the dust before coming to a ‘dead’ halt a couple of yards short of their horses.

Quickly holstering her left hand pistol, Buffy took the reins from her mouth and brought her horse to a halt, nimbly the horse responded to Buffy orders as it stopped and turned in its own length. Now facing down the valley she saw the last bandit running for his life. Just as she touched her heels to her horse’s flank and started to ride off after the bandit, he came to the top of a low rise. There was a shot and the brigand stopped dead in his tracks before falling over backwards and lying still in he sand.

Cantering over to the body, Buffy looked cautiously over the top of the ridge to see Moonlight holding a smoking pistol in her hand. Looking up at Buffy she seemed to be saying, ‘there, that’s for every time someone has beaten and abused me, never again’. Buffy smiled and nodded her head at the squaw, another liberated woman. Riding back into the camp proper, Buffy slid from her horse before it had even stopped so she could go tend to the girl who was lying naked in the dust.

“You guys look after the old woman and make sure all these bastards are really dead,” Buffy ordered Lone Watie and Moonlight as they followed her into the camp.

Picking up a discarded blanket, Buffy advanced on the girl as she lay in a ball on the ground. As she got closer she could hear her sobbing.

“Hey, its all over now,” Buffy said quietly as she knelt down next to the girl, “no ones going to hurt you any more.”

Pulling the girl into a sitting position Buffy wrapped the blanket around her shoulders so she was covered up. From what she’d seen from the ridge above the camp, the girl hadn’t been raped. But she was heading towards some major shock; Buffy had to get her to believe that she was safe now. Wrapping her arms around the girl, Buffy rocked her back and forth as she tried to reassure the girl that everything was alright and nothing was going to hurt her ever again.

“Help us,” sobbed the girl.

“Huh?” Buffy pulled away from the girl and looked at her, what was she going on about, she’d saved her.

“Help us!” the girl cried more urgently as she pointed over Buffy’s shoulder.

Turning, Buffy saw two Indian braves sitting on their horses about seventy-five to one-hundred yards away.

“Comanche!” Lone Watie puffed as he ran over to Buffy having left the old woman in Moonlight’s care, “They’re not going to be pleased about us killing their friends.”

“Comanche?” Buffy glanced at Lone Watie as she stood up, “Like, Ten Bears’ men?”

“Yep,” Lone Watie answered with a curt nod.

Hauling an unused pistol from her belt, Buffy cocked the weapon with her thumb, pointed, aimed and fired. About a second later the big, soft, lead slug hit one of the Indians and he fell off the back of his horse. His partner looked at the body of his fellow brave in disbelief; no one could hit a man at that range with a pistol. Yet there was the evidence lying bleeding on the ground. Not waiting for more evidence of the short white man’s marksmanship, the surviving Indian turned tail and ran.

“You got him!” cried the girl as she jumped to her feet and hugged Buffy not caring that her blanket had slipped from her shoulders and was lying on the ground.

“Good shot,” Lone Watie said laconically, as he pretended not to watch the naked white girl hug Buffy, “But Ten Bears will send more warriors.”

Smiling and not really realising she was doing it, Buffy put an arm around the girl and returned her hugs, glancing over the girl’s shoulder she looked at Lone Watie.

“Ten Bears will send more warriors, will he?” Buffy’s eyes went hard for a moment, “I say, bring them on!”

0=0=0=0


	9. Chapter 9

9.

Sitting on the hard ground near the camp-fire, Buffy ate her pork and beans in silence as she listened to the old woman, Granny Sarah, complain about how a family of hogs had been living in the pants she was now wearing. After the rather one-sided battle with the Comancheros, Buffy and Lone Watie had organised the little group by loading up two of the carts with everything that the bandits hadn’t ruined. Buffy had also stripped the corpses of their weapons. Before the fight she’d been concerned that she was running low on ammunition for her pistols. Now she had enough spare rounds for several fights, and with all the spare weapons, she could load up and keep shooting all day without the need to stop and reload.

After leaving the narrow little valley they’d ridden onwards until they came to the end of the area of dried mud. The land turned to something less arid with coarse grass, sage brush and even a few trees. On they travelled all day trying to put as much distance between themselves and the battle site as they could. However, Buffy wasn’t going to fool herself, although even she couldn’t pick out anyone following them she somehow knew they were there and she knew that one day there would be a reckoning with Ten Bears; she’d killed one of his braves and several of his allies.

It was only as the sun headed inexorably towards the western horizon that Buffy finally called a halt. They were on the side of a hill where actual trees grew; it would be perfect cover for their night camp. So the carts had been pulled under the trees. The draft animals were taken out of their harness, given a little water and left to find what they could to eat. They’d then dealt with the needs of their riding horses and the animals they’d taken from the Comancheros. All in all they had a pretty sizeable collection of animals now and Buffy started to worry about someone trying to take them away from her and her new found friends.

“…I was taking about our ranch,” Granny was explaining about all the clothes she’d lost.

“Where's this ranch?” Buffy asked as she sat by the fire next to Moonlight.

“My son’s ranch,” Granny explained, “he found it before the war, it’s near a town called Santa Rio. Good water, trees, cattle, black-tailed deer,” Granny went on getting more intense as she spoke, “It’s a regular paradise we’re headed to.”

“Out there?” Buffy looked up from her plate to gaze out over the darkening landscape; her eyes adapted to see the miles of dried up scrub land in the dark, she looked back at Granny, “Your son told you this was out their?” she couldn’t quite keep the disbelief from her voice, but Granny wasn’t to be put off.

“He told me,” Granny insisted, “it’s near a place called Blood Butte…my son was True-Blue, Miss Summers. He never lied,” she assured Buffy, “It’ll be there, all we have to do is find it.”

“Totally,” Buffy said quietly as she put down her plate and stood up.

Walking away from the fire, Buffy strolled over to where Laura-Lee sat at the edge of the area of light cast by the fire. The girl was sitting on a rock staring out into the night and up at the stars as they appeared in the sky one by one.

“Hi,” Buffy said as she came to stand next to where the girl sat, “you okay now?”

“There pretty ain’t they?” Laura-Lee jerked her chin upwards at the sky.

“I suppose so,” Buffy agreed as she sat down on the stone next to the girl, “normally when I’m out at night I’m not looking at the stars.”

“No,” Laura-Lee turned to look at Buffy and shuffled herself closer so they touched all down one side of their bodies, “I don’t suppose you do.”

“Totally,” Buffy’s mouth went suddenly dry as she became acutely aware of the warmth of the girl’s body even through her clothes.

“You being a gunfighter an’all,” Laura-Lee went on as she put her arm around Buffy’s waist, “how come you’re a gunfighter, Buffy?”

“The war,” Buffy coughed to clear her throat of the big lump that had abruptly taken up residence there, “it’s a long story…I’ll totally tell you one day.”

“Promise?” Laura-Lee asked with an intensity that surprised Buffy.

Buffy suddenly found herself looking into Laura-Lee’s cornflower blue eyes and thinking how much they looked like Dawn’s, Laura-Lee smiled as she brought her lips closer to Buffy’s.

“Promise,” Buffy nodded; oh how she wanted to crush those soft, inviting lips against her own, it had been so long since anyone had held her, kissed her, touched her…

“About earlier,” Laura-Lee murmured, “you know in the camp when I was…you know…I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, did I embarrass you, being naked an’all?”

“No!” Buffy squeaked a little louder than she’d meant to, “No, it was fine, totally not of the bad…at all even.”

“Would you like to…?”

Suddenly Buffy’s world held only Laura-Lee as their lips met and Buffy’s mind and body went into sensual overload. It had been a long, long time since she’d allowed herself to ‘love’, so long in fact that she’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel another body pressed against her own. Somehow she found her hand on Laura-Lee’s small breast as they kissed passionately there in the dark. Feeling Laura-Lee slipping her hand inside her own shirt, Buffy sighed with pent up desire…just before the two of them slipped off the rock to lay in each others arms on the sand.

0=0=0=0

“Indian,” Granny Sarah touched Lone Watie’s arm drawing his attention to the sounds coming from out of the dark, “this Miss Summers is a cold blooded killer, she’s from Missouri where they’re all known to be cold blooded killers…”

“Would you rather be riding with Comancheros, Granny?” Lone Watie asked, he nodded his head to where Buffy and Laura-Lee giggled quietly in the dark, “Would you rather Laura-Lee was with the Comancheros?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Granny agreed with a firm nod of her head before repeating, “no I wouldn’t.”

0=0=0=0

Later as the stars shone down on the little camp and the animals shifted in their sleep, Laura-Lee disentangled herself from Buffy’s arms and slipped from under the blanket they’d been sharing. Pulling her clothes around herself to keep off the chill of the night, the girl stood up and looked around. Satisfied that no one was watching her she slipped away between the trees and into the night. Walking swiftly for several minutes, Laura-Lee finally stopped and looked around when she felt she was far enough away from the camp not to be seen or heard. Taking a small charm from under her blouse she held it tightly in her hand and muttered some words of power over it.

“Laura-Lee,” D’Hoffran smiled at the girl as he stepped out of the shadows, he reached out with a hand that had fingers with long sharp talons on the end and caressed her soft cheek, “how goes your mission?”

“Erm,” Laura-Lee looked at her demonic master in uncertainty, “that’s what I want to talk to you about.”

“What’s wrong?” D’Hoffran asked, “You can’t be having trouble steering Miss Summers down the path to vengeance, blood and death, I mean she’s half way there already!”

“That’s what I mean, I don’t want her hurt,” Laura-Lee said defiantly, “she’s brave an’ kind an’ beautiful an’…”

“Ah!” D’Hoffran held up a hand to silence the girl’s description of Buffy’s good points, “I see what’s happened here,” the demon sniffed haughtily, “you’ve fallen in love with her haven’t you? A typical human weakness.”

“It’s not a weakness,” Laura-Lee snapped back, she gazed at the demon pleadingly, “she’s really nice, please don’t make me do anything that might harm her…” Laura-Lee looked at the demon’s impassive face, “…please.”

“Oh,” D’Hoffran sighed heavily, “alright then…” he shook his head in sorrow, all good things had to end he’d told himself, “…I was foolish to think I could keep some control over her,” he shook his horned head, “I’ll leave you in peace together if…” 

“If?” Laura-Lee asked hopefully.

“The trail of vengeance between The Slayer, Ten Bears and Captain Terrell must be played out to its bitter end,” D’Hoffran proclaimed, “if you both survive I will leave you in peace for the rest of your miserably short lives.”

“The Slayer?” Laura-Lee gave D’Hoffran a puzzled look.

“Didn’t I mention it?” D’Hoffran asked nonchalantly, “I thought I had, yes your new lover is a Slayer so you better watch out that she doesn’t find out what you are,” the demon smiled evilly. “I’m told that if a slayer finds she’s been betrayed in any way…like say the girl in her arms isn’t entirely human, they have a sad tendency to slay first and listen to explanations later.”

“No!” Laura-Lee’s hand went to her mouth as tears started to fill her eyes.

“But I wouldn’t worry; if I were you, keep her distracted and as soon as you’ve had the Slayer kill Ten Bears and Captain Terrell you will be free of me and you’ll be human again...but until then…”

Fading into the night D’Hoffran left his threat unsaid. Finding herself alone in the darkness Laura-Lee regretted the day she’d ever taken the demon up on his offer. But then it had been a choice between the hangman’s noose and working for the demon. To this day she’d never regret cutting down her faithless lover, she’d been young and didn’t want to die, not then and not now. Buffy would never betray her, this she knew with a certainty that couldn’t be denied, but she’d have to lead her lover into danger so they’d both be free.

Turning Laura-Lee headed back to the camp, so lost in her thoughts was she that she almost didn’t notice one of Ten Bears’ men until he jumped out in front of her. Seeing the brave standing there with his knife raised ready to kill, Laura-Lee almost cried out in fear. But she didn’t, instead she turned into the demonic version of herself and smiled as she saw the brave's face change from naked savagery to one of fear and horror. Striking out with her hand Laura-Lee hit the India breaking his neck instantly. Looking down at the body, Laura-Lee shook herself and became wholly human again. The body was far enough away from the camp that no one would notice it. They’d be long gone before it started to decompose and began to smell.

0=0=0=0

Santa Rio had once been a thriving mining town, but not any more. The next morning when Buffy led her little band into town all she saw was, run down, deserted, grey, clapboard buildings. The empty windows looked out at the world like vacant eye sockets in a skull. When the people had left they’d taken their windows with them, glass being valuable out here in the wilderness. Her heart sinking deeper in her chest as she rode further into town, Buffy started to reassess her plans for going to Mexico. She’d sort of put them on hold since…well, to be honest, last night. Now Mexico was once again beginning to look the better option.

Turning into what had once been ‘Main Street’ Buffy saw one building that still seemed to show some sign of life, at least it still had all its windows. It was the town’s saloon and from the sounds of the muted conversation coming from inside it appeared that Santa Rio was inhabited by more than just ghosts. Signalling her little column to halt, Buffy climbed down from her horse, tied the reins to a handy hitching rail and slowly walked into the ‘Lost Lady’ saloon.

Pushing her way through the swing doors, Buffy found herself in the dusty interior of the saloon. As her eyes quickly adapted to the reduced light levels of the bar, she saw five people, probably the towns only inhabitants, four men and one woman. The woman was dressed as a saloon girl, although to call her a ‘girl’ would be stretching a point to the limit. Of the men, one looked like the barkeep, another like an old gambler, there was a distinguished looking Mexican and another man who looked like a ranch hand who’d not been anywhere near a ranch in some time.

“Hi,” Buffy said brightly as she walked up to the bar.

“Howdy, little lady,” called the barkeep in a friendly enough manner, “what can we do for you?”

“Whiskey?” Buffy having been in the past for almost five years was used to strong liquor now.

“Whiskey she says!” laughed the barkeep, the other denizens of the room joined in with the barkeep's bitter laughter.

“Beer?” Buffy asked hopefully, “And you can get everyone else whatever they’re drinking too.”

The whore laughed raucously at this piece of generosity, Buffy started to feel that she’d walked into some kind of wild west lunatic asylum.

“That’s mighty decent of you, Missy,” sighed the barkeep as he leaned back in his chair, “Been a loooong time since anybody bought a drink here.”

“About as long a time since we had anything _to_ drink around here,” said the gambler from his seat by the window.

“…or anything else,” sighed the saloon ‘girl’.

“Yeah,” the barkeep started to explain, “first the silver run out, then the people run out. Then the whiskey and the beer run out…well no matter.” The barkeep turned in his chair and looked Buffy up and down noting the pistols that hung about her body. “It’s good to see a high roller comin’ through…”

“Whatever,” Buffy shrugged, turned around and walked out the door.

“Maybe she doesn’t like to be called a ‘High Roller,” said the saloon ‘girl’ as Buffy disappeared through the swing doors, “I knew a man once who didn’t like to be called ‘high-handed’.”

Before anyone else could suggest a reason why Buffy had left so abruptly; she reappeared carrying a box under her arm. Placing the crate on the bar so the bottles inside rattled together noisily she stepped back.

“Whiskey,” Buffy announced to the startled town's folk, “the good stuff too.”

“Angels of Mercy have come to Santa Rio!” cried the guy who looked like a ranch hand as everyone got up and headed for the bar.

Moments later Granny Sarah led the rest of Buffy’s party into the saloon.

“This ain’t Santa Rio!” Granny announced to the world; she didn’t get an answer for a moment or two because the ‘world’ was too busy savouring the first whisky it’d drunk in months. “My son, Tom Turner, said it was a thriving place.”

“It was,” the gambler cried, “but when the silver run out the thriving ran out too!”

“I do declare,” the saloon girl, whose name was Rose, advanced slowly on Granny, “might you be the mother of Tom Turner whose Crooked River Ranch is over by Blood Butte?”

“That I might be,” Granny nodded stiffly, “he was killed in the border wars by Missouri raiders; he died a proud member of Senator Jim Lane’s Redlegs…”

Buffy glanced at Granny at the mention of the Senator and his hated ‘Redlegs’.

“Senora,” the Mexican man walked up to Granny and gave her a small bow, “please sit down you must be exhausted after such a long trip.” The old Mexican led Granny over to a chair and seated her, “I am deeply sorrowed to hear of your son’s death, in past years my friend, Travis, and I were of service to your son, and now we are at your service.”

Standing by one of the windows, Buffy caught a glimpse of movement out on the street. Turning to get a better look she saw two men with almost as many pistols at their belts as she had. It was obvious to her what they were, Bounty Hunters.

“Oh crap,” Buffy whispered to herself as one of the bounty hunters started to walk across the street towards the saloon.

0=0=0=0


	10. Chapter 10

10.

“Lets have a drink to the damn silver runnin’ out,” cried the barkeep happily as he poured another shot of whiskey for himself and the old gambler, “gave us some peace and quiet around here!”

Buffy watched through the dirty window glass as the bounty hunter walked towards the door. Dark pants, off white shirt, grey waistcoat even a tie, quite smart for a killer Buffy thought. Taking a last sip of her whiskey she placed the glass carefully on the bar, turning so she was facing the door she loosened her right hand pistol so it would come free of its holster without sticking.

“It was bad luck the silver runnin’ out,” laughed the old gambler.

“I wouldn’t have any other kind!” joked the barkeep.

By now the bounty hunter was at the door, Buffy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Fighting in a skirmish was one thing, there it was kill or be killed, but this…this was different, Buffy had never liked these stand up gun fights they were too much like murder for her taste. It wouldn’t matter how good the bounty hunter was, he wouldn’t be good enough to beat her, she was ‘The Slayer’ after all. The swing door opened and the bounty hunter stepped into the saloon.

“What’ll you have!?” cried the barkeep, he was just a little drunk and today it was drinks on the house for everyone.

“I’m looking for Buffy Summers,” announced the bounty hunter; he was only a few inches taller than Buffy and in his late twenties, chances were he wasn’t going to see his early thirties.

All conversation in the room stopped as people turned to look at the gunman.

“Hi,” Buffy sighed tiredly, “that’s me,” she took a step towards the bounty hunter so he could see her properly.

The bounty hunter looked a little puzzled as he caught sight of Buffy for the first time. Buffy supposed the knowledge that you were going to shoot a woman was different to the hard reality of seeing the woman you were going to try and shoot.

“You’re wanted, Summers,” the bounty hunter turned to face Buffy.

“I wish I’d been this popular in high school,” Buffy replied quietly, “You a bounty hunter, right?”

“A man’s gotta do something for a living these days,” the gunman replied a little defensively.

“Dyin’s not a living,” Buffy pointed out, “You do know this is totally unnecessary? You could, like, y’know ride on out of here.”

For a moment the bounty hunter stood looking at Buffy, he was obviously having second thoughts. Slowly he turned back to the door, pushed it open and walked out onto the street again. Everyone let out a long sigh of relief, common sense had prevailed there would be no more death today.

Sitting under the window opposite the one Buffy had used to watch the approach of the bounty hunter, Laura-Lee could see out into the street. She saw the gunman pause on the boardwalk and look across the street to where his partner stood with their horses. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as the bounty hunter struggled with some internal conflict. She willed him to keep walking and cross the street and for him and his partner to get on their horses and ride away. But he didn’t, instead the bounty hunter turned once more and walked back into the saloon.

“I had to come back,” explained the bounty hunter as he pushed his way back into the saloon.

“Whatever,” Buffy replied in little more than a whisper.

The moment the bounty hunter went for his pistol he was as good as dead, it was like Buffy could already see his body lying in the dusty street as her hand closed over the butt of her pistol. Without any conscious thought on her behalf, she pulled her weapon from its resting place, aimed and fired. The bounty hunter’s pistol was only half way out of its holster when Buffy’s bullet hit him square in the centre of his chest. Knocked back through the swing doors by the force of the round the bounty hunter stumbled, tripped over his own feet and fell from the boardwalk into the street. He lay there with his blood soaking into the sand as his partner made a dash for his horse, mounted up and galloped off down the street and out of town.

Jumping from her seat, Laura-Lee rushed the few yards to where Buffy still stood and threw her arms around her. Holding back her tears of relief she rested her head against Buffy’s while holding her very tightly. Her lover had survived once more but there was still Ten Bears and Captain Terrell to deal with. What was worse Laura-Lee knew she’d have to convince Buffy to resolve those fights, to kill Ten Bears and Terrell before they were both free of the curse of the ‘Wish’.

Stroking Laura-Lee’s back, Buffy slipped her pistol back into its holster. Another life wasted and another notch on her gun she supposed. Would they ever stop coming or would it only end when she was dead. Death had been her gift to Dawn and all her friends, would death be her gift to herself? Would death be her only rest in this world or the next?

0=0=0=0

After spending the night in town, Buffy’s party rose at dawn and along with Chaco the Mexican and Travis the ranch hand, they headed out to Tom Turner’s, Crocked River Ranch. Not long after they’d left Santa Rio they picked up a tail; bringing her horse to a halt, Buffy stood in her stirrups and watched the dust of a dozen riders as they dogged their trail.

“Ten Bears’ men,” Lone Watie announced as he rode up beside Buffy, “he wants to know what we’re doing, he claims all this land as his own.”

“He does?” Buffy sat back down on her saddle and glanced at Lone Watie, “We’ll have to see about that.”

Buffy supposed it was wrong to blame the entire tribe for the actions of its chief, but they did buy and sell captive women into slavery and hadn’t there been a war about that just now? Although Buffy had fought on the side of the slave owning South, her war had been about revenge. If it had been Southerners who’d killed her ‘family’ she’d have just as happily fought on the Northern side. But that was all in the past now, it hadn’t even been real. The feelings of ‘kinship’ she’d felt for those nameless people had been fake, put into her head by…well Buffy didn’t know who, but she was sure that those feeling were false.

But now…but now, she had these people to care about, Laura-Lee, Granny, Lone Watie, Little Moonlight even that mangy hound that followed them wherever they went. They were her family now and people like Ten Bears and Terrill would threaten their peace, they’d have to be dealt with, she’d have to fight and kill again. The Indians were now only a hundred yards away, so much for the sneaky approach to tailing people, Buffy smiled. Well, she’d just have to show them the error of their ways.

“Stay with the others,” Buffy told Lone Watie.

Pulling a revolver from one of the holsters hanging from the horn of her saddle, Buffy started to canter towards the little group of Indians. They began to whoop and cry out at her approach, they waited until Buffy was maybe fifty yards away before they started to move off. Halting her horse, Buffy pointed her pistol and fired. Throwing his hands up into the air an Indian dropped his rifle as he slid slowly from the back of his horse. With cries of consternation the other Indians stopped and milled about unsure what to do, Buffy helped make up their minds by shooting another of their number.

With two men dead, the Indians charged towards where Buffy sat atop her horse. The Indians fired their rifles at her but their bullets flew by never coming closer that a couple of yards. With a determined *HA!* Buffy urged her horse towards the gaggle of Indians, firing again and again as the range decreased, Buffy saw Indian after Indian fall from his horse to lie dead in amongst the dust and sage brush. By the time the Indians had closed with her, near half their number were dead.

Swapping her empty pistol for a loaded one Buffy rode her horse between the startled and confused warriors firing as she went. Each shot brought down an Indian as their return fire flew harmlessly over her head as she bent over the neck of her horse. Swapping her pistol for another loaded one she sat up straight to see the fear in the eyes of the last remaining warrior.

“GO!” she ordered him, “Go tell Ten Bears that this is what'll happen if he messes with me and mine.”

Relieved at his sudden reprieve from almost certain death, the warrior wheeled his horse around and galloped off in a cloud of dust. After watching the brave ride off for a minute or two, Buffy turned her horse’s head around and headed back to her people where she was greeted by the cheers of her family.

0=0=0=0

“Ten Bears will send a war party next time,” Lone Watie told Buffy as they rode side by side along the river valley.

“Good,” Buffy replied defiantly, “get it over with one way or the other.”

Lone Watie recoiled a little from the determination and bitterness in Buffy’s voice.

“Feeling like that can burn you up inside,” Lone Watie warned, he’d never seen her like this before, so he was relieved when Buffy turned and smiled at him sadly.

“I’m just so tired, Lone Watie,” Buffy sighed, “I was tired of fighting before I came here, then there was four years of war…”

Lone Watie frowned, he didn’t quite understand, Buffy had been a wife and mother before the war between the white-men, but now she was saying she’d been fighting even then.

“…I just want it all to stop,” Buffy cried as tears of frustration trickled down her cheeks; Lone Watie had never seen her cry before either. “I died for my sister and friends I hoped I’d get some peace, but oh no that’s too easy for Buffy Summers…”

Lone Watie started to wonder if Buffy had been out in the sun too long her words made no sense at all.

“…I just want to be left in peace to live out my life, Chief,” Buffy smiled at the old Indian, “and if that means I have to kill everyone in the State of Texas, I will!”

Now that was something Lone Watie could understand.

0=0=0=0

The Crooked River was like its name suggested, crooked. It wound between high bluffs along a green valley that was nowhere more than half a mile wide. As they moved further up the valley the bluffs came closer together towering over the land below. As it turned out they discovered that Tom Turner hadn’t been lying. There was grass, cattle, even some deer. Trees stood in small clumps between the walls of the valley and the river itself; the description of the place as a paradise wasn’t far from the truth.

Slowly they moved up the valley following the rough track that looked as if it hadn’t been used since Tom Turner went away to fight in the war and got himself killed. Buffy told herself that if she’d lived here she wouldn’t have gone off to fight in a war that was no concern of hers. But, even as she thought the words, she knew she could have no more not gone to war than she could fly to the moon on the backs of ducks. It wasn’t in her nature to sit back and let evil prosper.

0=0=0=0

It was only when they reached the head of the valley that they saw it; a low whitewashed building (a little weather stained now, but still solid enough) under a stand of trees in a bow of the river. The little convoy of carts and horses crossed the shallow river at a ford and pulled up outside the house. No sooner than the carts had stopped and the riders had started to dismount did Granny Sarah jump from her cart and bustle towards the house. 

Opening her mouth to shout a warning, Buffy really wanted to make sure there was nothing and no one lurking in the house, she gave up as she saw Granny pull open the front door. Sliding off her horse Buffy came up behind Granny as she plunged excitedly into what had to be the house’s living room.

“Alright, we can get to work…dusting first,” Granny moved about the room opening the shutters over the windows.

Looking on, Buffy saw a room a little smaller than the family room at her old house, every surface was thick with dust and spider webs hung from what little furniture there was.

“Got a nice Dutch oven,” Granny cackled like a witch over her cauldron, “Miss Summers,” she called as she opened more shutters, “you get the men to start chopping wood, then you can help me an’ Laura-Lee clean up in here.”

“Erm,” Buffy looked around the room a smile playing around her lips, “I don’t think so, I was never one with the chores…”

“Miss Summers!” Granny clutched hold of a broom she’d found and advanced on Buffy, “did you come all this way to gawk?”

“Erm…” Buffy began but wasn’t given a chance to speak.

“If you don’t work, you don’t eat around here,” Granny informed her, “didn’t think of you as a loafer.”

“Whatever,” Buffy sighed quietly and then in a louder voice she said, “Tell you what Granny, I’ll totally help the guys cut fire wood,” turning on her heel Buffy left Granny to her dusting.

0=0=0=0

After several hours of hard work the house was more or less clean and habitable. There was a lot more work needed but that could wait for now. Granny cooked a meal and they’d all sat around the fire in the living room to eat. As darkness fell, and Travis got out a fiddle and started to scratch out a tune, Buffy got up and slowly walked outside, this was partly because she didn’t want Granny to make her help with the dishes and partly because she wanted time to think.

Standing on the porch, Buffy looked up at the stars and wondered at how many there were and how bright they were, no pollution in the atmosphere she supposed. Looking out into the night, she thought how peaceful it was here, no vampires or demons to bother her, only human foes to worry about. Perhaps if she could solve the problem of Ten Bears and Terrell; she’d not heard anything about Terrell for weeks but he wasn’t the sort of man that left things unfinished. Once he’d started a job he wouldn’t stop until he’d finished it one way or another. Ten Bears however was a more immediate threat to life and happiness, she’d have to do something about him and soon.

“Don’t go,” Laura-Lee’s voice came from beside Buffy, she looked around to see the girl had silently come to stand beside her.

“Go?” Buffy laughed, “I’m totally not going anywhere, why’d…?”

“Oh you just had the look of someone who was going away is all,” Laura-Lee explained.

“No,” Buffy shook her head as she slipped an arm around Laura-Lee’s waist, “you’re, like, stuck with me.”

“Good,” Laura-Lee snuggled up to Buffy and slipped her own arm around her, “but there’s something bothering you isn’t there?”

“Sure is,” Buffy agreed as she felt the warmth of Laura-Lee’s body against her own.

“Ten Bears?” Laura-Lee asked sadly; she was conflicted, while she didn’t want to lose her lover she knew that the fight with Ten Bears couldn’t be put off, not if they were to be free of D’Hoffran.

“Yeah, Ten Bears and Terrill,” Buffy sighed as she pulled Laura-Lee closer.

“Terrill, that’s the man who’s been chasing you all the way from Missouri, right?” for a moment Laura-Lee considered telling Buffy everything, about herself, about D’Hoffran, perhaps Buffy wouldn’t slay her before she had a chance to explain.

“Yeah that’s him,” Buffy shook her head slowly, “following me since he killed the family that wasn’t mine.”

Sometimes things Buffy said confused Laura-Lee because they didn’t make much sense, like just now. But Buffy was a complicated woman who’d seen and done things that only a man or possibly a demonic girl should see, maybe it was because she was a slayer, Laura-Lee didn’t know.

“I’m sleeping in the cart tonight,” Laura-Lee said quietly, “you wanna come help keep me warm?”

0=0=0=0


	11. Chapter 11

11.

Sitting on a blanket under the trees, Buffy watched the ranch house from the opposite side of the river and smiled. The last two weeks had been hard work, chopping wood, rounding up stray cattle and horses; repairing the house and out buildings. But it had all been worthwhile. Looking from the newly completed corral to where the washing hung swaying slowly in the breeze, Buffy’s eyes came to rest on the vegetable garden that Laura-Lee had started.

Sighing happily, Buffy rested back on her arms and looked up at the clear blue sky, soon it would be winter; there was already a bite to the air early in the mornings and at night. Soon it would be too cold to sleep out in the back of one of the wagons. Looking back at the house again, Buffy frowned for a moment. The house only had four rooms, a family room which doubled as a kitchen, a store room and two tiny bedrooms. Granny slept in one while the other was used as a sort of armoury for all the weapons they’d collected from Buffy’s victims over the last few months. They needed to make the house bigger, but Buffy had no idea how you actually did that, like build more rooms. It could wait until next year; she’d work it out then.

Dropping her gaze, Buffy looked down at the new dress she was wearing; it was white with little blue flowers printed on the material. It wasn’t something she’d have bought for herself, but Laura-Lee had bought it for her so she wore it, along with her new girlie underwear. Buffy now wore genuine ‘bloomers’, a petticoat and one of those vest like things that she didn’t know the name of; she even had stockings with garters and real women’s shoes. A few days ago, Laura-Lee and herself had been sent on a shopping trip to Nabisco. It was the nearest town that actually had a store; even so Nabisco was three days there and back by horse and cart. While Buffy had been seeing to the supplies like flour, sugar and coffee, Laura-Lee had sneaked off and chosen some proper women’s clothes for Buffy as well as Granny and herself. They needed stuff to replace the things ruined by the Comancheros and as the Comancheros had destroyed things it was only right that they should pay for them. One of the things Buffy had found on one of the dead bandits was a pouch full of gold teeth and wedding rings.

Looking at her new dress, Buffy thought how odd it felt not to be wearing men’s clothes; she’d not worn a dress in five years (unless you counted that one time she dressed up as a saloon girl but that had been ‘work’ related). In fact lots of things were odd and didn’t really fit in too well with her preconceived ideas about the ‘old west’. For a start no one thought it strange for a woman to be carrying guns (okay, perhaps they thought it weird that Buffy carried so many), in fact Buffy had seen several women with pistols strapped on over their dresses. Then there was the clothing thing, again no one seem to think it odd that she dressed like a man.

The biggest surprise was the way no one commented about Laura-Lee and herself. They had to know what they were doing in that wagon at night (or maybe they didn’t; whatever). When they’d been in town no one had commented about how they held each others hand in the street or even kissed (nothing too passionate mind-you). When they’d stayed two nights at the guest house in Nabisco the landlady hadn’t turned a hair at the idea of Buffy and Laura-Lee sharing a bed. Perhaps people were really that innocent or perhaps they just didn’t care and kept their noses out of other people’s business.

Hearing a noise behind her, Buffy’s hand moved slowly towards the revolver hidden in the folds of her dress, she might be dressed like a woman, but she was still Buffy Summers, gunfighter and outlaw. Listening for a moment longer, she relaxed and let her hand move away from her gun, she turned her head and smiled.

“Laura-Lee,” Buffy called, “will you come out of those bushes and stop playing the damn fool, one of these days girl I’ll totally shoot you by accident!”

“How do you do that?” Laura-Lee asked as she came out from behind a bush, “I thought I was being as quiet as a mouse.”

“A mouse the size of an elephant,” Buffy laughed but when she saw Laura-Lee’s face fall she quickly amended what she’d meant. “Not that I think you’re totally an elephant! It’s-it’s just I have really good hearing, y’know?” Buffy saw Laura-Lee start to smile again, “Now stop creeping around and come and sit down,” she patted the blanket next to her.

Walking over to Buffy, Laura-Lee sat down next to her, got herself comfortable and slipped her arm around Buffy’s waist.

“What-cha-lookin’ at?” Laura-Lee asked as she rested her head on Buffy’s shoulder.

“The ranch,” Buffy replied with a contented sigh, “the sky, the world…I could stay here forever with you and Granny and Lone Watie, Moonlight and even that damn hound…but…”

“But?” Laura-Lee lifted her head from its resting place; she reached up and turned Buffy’s head to face her.

“But…” this time Buffy sighed in frustration, “…I’m still a wanted woman, Laura-Lee. Captain Terrill and his happy band of murderin’ cut-throats are still looking for me…”

“Perhaps they’ll forget about you,” Laura-Lee suggested unrealistically, “maybe they’ll think you’re dead and go home.”

“Some things there’s no forgetting,” Buffy said quietly, “they’ll come, not today, not tomorrow but soon very soon then…” Buffy took a deep breath and clasped hold of Laura-Lee’s hand, “…then it’ll be bad for everyone and I totally wouldn’t want you to get mixed up in that.”

“So, you’ll leave us alone out here with no one to protect us from Ten Bears and his murderin’ savages,” Laura-Lee tossed her head making her silky blonde hair swish across her face and neck like water over a stone.

For a moment Buffy forgot her resolve to move on and leave Laura-Lee behind, instead she wanted to spend the rest of her life in the arms of the girl by her side. But, she knew if she did that it would only end one way; everyone would die. Wasn’t it always that way? Her mother had died, the family that she sometimes still thought of as her own had died, how many more would die because of her? Buffy ignored the little voice at the back of her mind that asked; how many had lived because of her?

“I won’t leave before I’ve dealt with Ten Bears,” Buffy put her arm around Laura-Lee and pulled her close, “I wouldn’t do that…and I won’t be gone forever either I’ll be back couple of times a year…”

“Please don’t leave Buffy,” Laura-Lee pleaded.

“But…Terrill…” Buffy was a little shocked by the look of determination on Laura-Lee’s face.

“To hell with Terrill,” Laura-Lee snapped angrily, “to hell with Ten Bears! We’re family now, we’ve all we’ve got. Your enemies are our enemies now, we’ll fight them together!”

“But…!” Buffy’s objections were stifled by the fierce kiss Laura-Lee planted on her lips.

“Don’t you get it Buffy Summers?” the girl gasped, “I love you, we all love you, we need you and want you to stay forever.” Gently Laura-Lee pushed Buffy back so they lay beside each other, “So, what if this Captain Terrill and his men come we’ll fight them together…”

“But…” once more Buffy tried to explain how they’d all die but her argument was silenced by another kiss.

“So, that’s settled,” Laura-Lee kissed Buffy on her forehead, “no more talk about leaving, you’re staying here ‘til we’re both old and grey and when we die we’ll be buried side by side.”

“Gross, much!” Buffy giggled before returning Laura-Lee’s kisses.

“One of the really good things about skirts and things,” Laura-Lee’s hand reached down and started to hitch up Buffy’s skirts, “is you don’t have to fuss with belts and buttons to get at the good bits.”

“Good bits?” Buffy queried; Laura-Lee now had Buffy’s skirt up around her hips and was running her hand slowly up her inner thigh, “OH!” Buffy gasped as Laura-Lee’s hand came to rest between her legs and started to stroke her with slow, gentle fingers, “Now I totally get it…” she shivered with pleasure as Laura-Lee’s fingers started to work there magic, “…yeah, totally, good bits…”

Lying back to enjoy the warm feeling that was filling her body and the nice tingly sensation between her legs, Buffy didn’t at first hear Granny calling their names.

“W-what’s that?” Buffy came back from the wonderful place her mind and body had drifted off to.

“What’s what?” Laura-Lee murmured in her ear; Buffy shuddered with pleasure as she felt Laura-Lee’s lips brush against her ear.

“Laura-Lee?” Granny’s voice drifted across the river to them, “Buffy?”

“Oh damn!” Laura-Lee stopped what she was doing and sat up.

“Oh damn what?” Buffy said sounding very disappointed, “Can’t we pretend not to have heard her and…you know…?”

“No…” Laura-Lee sighed sadly, “…she’ll just keep calling and if we don’t reply she’ll send Little Moonlight out to look for us.”

“For god’s sake why?” Buffy demanded as she rearranged her skirts, looked like she’d have to wait a while yet before Laura-Lee and herself could get to the ‘good bits’ again.

“It’s Sunday,” Laura Lee replied as if that explained everything.

“It is?” Buffy frowned, she’d sort of lost track of the days, “I’d forgotten,” she paused for a moment, “why’s that so important?”

“Granny wants to hold a thanksgiving service,” Laura-Lee explained as she stood up.

“But Thanksgiving isn’t for weeks yet,” Buffy struggled to her feet and helped Laura-Lee fold up the blanket.

“Not ‘Thanksgiving’ silly,” Laura-Lee laughed, “a thanksgiving service.”

“But there’s only four of us here, five if you count the dog,” Buffy pointed out, “and I’m pretty sure Moonlight and the dog aren’t Christians.”

“That won’t stop Granny,” Laura-Lee explained as she headed towards the ranch house, “you’ve probably noticed, she’s very determined.”

“Whatever,” Buffy shrugged, rolled her eyes and followed Laura-Lee towards the house.

0=0=0=0

Standing and feeling slightly uncomfortable, Buffy listened to Granny and Laura-Lee sing a hymn to the accompaniment of Laura-Lee’s ‘squeeze-box’. Behind her Little Moonlight danced and chanted in her own tongue while the dog whined at all the noise. Eventually the singing stopped and Buffy wondered if she could go now. However, Granny wasn’t quite finished yet.

“Lord,” Granny began, “thanks a lot for bringing us all to this place…”

Buffy frowned, it seemed to her that the ‘Lord’ had been doing his damnedest to keep them from this place, what with Comancheros and Comanche’s…and the death’s of Granny’s husband and Laura-Lee’s uncle. If this was ‘the Lord’s help’ Buffy didn’t want any part of it.

“…and thanks a lot for Buffy Summers,” Granny smiled at Buffy, “who you changed from a bushwhacker on the side of Satan…”

Good old Granny, Buffy smiled, still a stranger to political correctness.

“…to a better woman in time to deliver us from the Philistines…” Granny paused as she turned to watch Buffy run down towards the river, “…and thank-you. Lord, for getting us together in Texas…” she finished as she wondered what had caused Buffy to run off like that.

Half listening to Granny, Buffy had let her eyes wander towards the river, maybe she’d heard something, perhaps she’d seen a flash of sunlight on a piece of metal. Whatever, it had caught her notice and Buffy was now running towards the horse and rider, pistol in hand, as they crossed the river and came up the home bank. Arriving at the horse she was just in time to catch Lone Watie as he fell, Buffy laid the old man down on the sand.

“Are you alright?” Buffy asked urgently as she checked Lone Watie out looking for wounds, she saw none but the old guy looked as if he’d ridden through hell and back.

“Ten Bears,” Lone Watie gasped, “he got Travis and Chaco…he’ll be riding here in the morning.”

Hearing footsteps behind her, Buffy turned to see the other women run up behind her. Earlier in the day, Lone Watie, Travis and Chaco had ridden out to check on their growing herd of cattle, that’s when Ten Bears must have pounced.

“Travis and Chaco,” Buffy looked into the old Indian’s eyes, “were they killed?” Lone Watie shook his head, “Good, then there’s still a chance…” Buffy knew what she had to do, but before that she had to make sure everyone was as safe as she could make them. 

Little Moonlight’s voice broke into Buffy’s thoughts, turning Buffy saw the Indian girl pointing up to the bluffs overlooking the river. Following Moonlight’s pointing finger she saw two riders watching them from above. Concentrating hard, Buffy saw that one of them was Ten Bears himself. Buffy cursed herself for not having her Sharps Carbine with her, she’d have shot the Indian Chief right there and then if she had.

“Everyone back to the house!” Buffy ordered as she pulled Lone Watie to his feet before handing him over to Little Moonlight.

Pushing everyone ahead of her Buffy cast Ten Bears on last look, she’d made up her mind, this ended now, Ten Bears was a dead man.

0=0=0=0

“…if I was looking for a place to hole up,” Buffy announced as she handed out rifles (another present from the Comancheros), “I’d pick this one.”

Four years of fighting the Union had given Buffy a new appreciation for a good defensive position.

“Walls and ceiling two feet thick,” Buffy left rifles next to every window as she moved around the inside of the house, “all made of mud so they totally won’t burn…two doors, front and back both in sight of each other,” she pointed to the loopholes in the doors and window shutters, “Tom Turner sure knew what he was doing when he built this place.”

“You bet he did,” Granny spoke up defiantly, “I’ll be shootin’ out that door.”

“Granny,” Buffy smiled at the old woman, “I’d rather have you do the loading, okay?”

“Sure,” Granny nodded, “I can do that.”

“Moonlight,” Buffy crossed the room and took the girl by the arm and led her over to the back door, “You fire through here, all right.”

Like Granny the girl nodded.

“Laura-Lee,” Buffy pointed to another window, “you shoot through here…can you shoot, right?”

“I can learn real darn fast Buffy,” Laura-Lee reassured her.

“Chief,” finally Buffy turned to her oldest friend out here in the west, “you take this window and the door, wherever the most fire's coming from.” Buffy stopped moving and turned to face her friends, “Now remember, when things look totally bad and it looks like you won’t make it then you’ve gotta get like mean…I mean totally mad dog mean, okay?”

There were slow answering nods from everyone.

“If you lose your heads and give up then you don’t live or win, that’s just the way it is,” for a moment Buffy remembered all the times she’d been sure she was going to die…and the couple of times she’d actually been right, maybe this time it would take.

“Okay,” Buffy took a deep breath, “remember use pistols at close range, it’s more firepower and less reloading…” she couldn’t think of anything else to say, “…now I’m going to get changed…I don’t want to get my pretty new dress all dirty, y’know?”

Turning quickly, Buffy headed off towards the back bedroom.

“What’s all that paint about?” Granny asked as she walked over to stand next to Lone Watie; the old Indian had painted his face with soot from the fireplace.

“It’s my death face,” Lone Watie replied in little more than a whisper.

“You know, we’re sure gonna show those redskins tomorrow,” for once Granny realised that she might have said something to offend the old man, “no offence meant,” she added hastily.

“None taken,” replied Lone Watie; fifteen minutes later they heard a horse slowly moving away from the ranch house.

“What’s that?” Granny asked moving towards the window.

Lone Watie stood next to her and opened the shutter; in the failing light they could just make out Buffy’s figure as she rode away.

“Where’s she goin’?” Granny wanted to know, “I never took her for a quitter.”

“Buffy knows she can do the best for us on the back of a horse,” Lone Watie explained, “she’s a guerrilla fighter; she figures she can carry the fight to the enemy.” The old man sighed, “She’s goin’ down into the valley to kill Ten Bears and as many of his braves as she can.”

“How’s she gonna do that and come back here?” Laura-Lee asked from across the room.

“She doesn’t expect to come back,” Lone Watie shook his head sadly.

Realising what Lone Watie meant, Laura-Lee rushed to the door, pulled it open and stepped out into the night.

“Buffy!” she called out into the gathering darkness.

Just for a moment, Buffy pulled her horse to a halt; she could turn and say something cool but she didn’t know what to say; what could she possibly say that would make Laura-Lee feel better?

0=0=0=0


	12. Chapter 12

12.

Running silently up behind the Indian, Buffy jumped, grabbed hold of the brave’s long greasy hair and then used her weight to pull him from his horse. The warrior hit the ground with a loud thud, before he could even think of registering any surprise, Buffy was on him. Running her knife across his throat, she saw its keen blade bite into his neck; she felt the Indian’s hot blood spurt over her hands and heard his heels drumming against the ground as he fought to come to terms with being dead. Listing to the brave’s last breath gurgle from the wide cut in his throat, Buffy looked around in case her actions had alerted anyone to her presence.

Wiping the blood from her hands on to the dusty ground, Buffy breathed a quiet sigh of relief; she’d really expected better from the Comanche. Having watched the village for half an hour before starting her attack she’d seen precisely one guard and he was guarding the horse herd. Standing up over her first victim, Buffy picked up the man’s rifle (a Civil War surplus Springfield Rifled Musket by the looks of it) and cast a glance at the pony herd. One or two of the closest animals were giving her wary looks but otherwise the rest of the herd seemed to be unconcerned or asleep.

Glancing up at the moon, Buffy calculated that it must be nearly midnight, turning away from the dead Indian and his horse that still stood next to the body of its master, Buffy ran on silent feet back to where she’d left her own horse. Remounting quickly, she rested the Indian’s rifle on her thigh as she did one last check of her pistols; she had four hanging from the horn of her saddle and six about her body. Sixty rounds before she had to reload, sixty rounds should be enough she told herself. Surely there couldn’t be more than sixty warriors in the village. With her slayer powers and the skills she’d picked up during four years of bloody raid and counter-raid, sixty rounds should be more than enough.

As Buffy kicked her horse into motion towards the main part of the village, she smiled and wondered what Willow would think of her now. Remembering that Thanksgiving when Willow had got all up-tight about what the white-man had done to the ‘Native Americans’; she wondered what Willow would say if she saw what her, precious Native Americans had done to white-men and women. Buffy had seen and was now firmly on Spike’s side of the argument; she had superior weapons and skills, she’d beat them and that was just too bad…for the Redskins.

Muttering soothing words to her horse, Buffy rode past the first tee-pees, or whatever they were called; Willow would probably know. For a moment Buffy wondered if Willow would know what the Indians called staking someone out over an ant’s nest, probably not. Buffy had to stop herself from laughing out loud at how naive Willow had been, how they’d all been; demons, Indians they were all the same in Buffy’s book now.

“You’ve become a hard woman, Buffy Summers,” Buffy told herself quietly, but who wouldn’t be after the things she’d seen…and done

Riding on through the camp Buffy was still amazed that no one had challenged her, maybe this was another case of what she’d seen on westerns on the TV not being exactly accurate. Perhaps it was the Indians who were incompetent not the US Cavalry. Whatever the reason, Buffy still hoped to find her friends alive, it was a long shot true, but while there was even a slim chance that Travis and Chaco where alive she’d hold off on the killing until she was sure.

Riding between two tents, Buffy found herself in a wide open area surrounded by the rest of the village. In the centre was a large burnt out fire, next to the fire were two still forms, she could see by their clothes that it was Travis and Chaco. Sliding quietly from the back of her horse, Buffy grabbed her canteen and ran over to where the first of the prisoners lay. It was Travis he was either unconscious or dead, kneeling down next to him she felt for a pulse. Pulling her knife from its sheath Buffy cut the leather bonds that held Travis spread eagled on the ground next to the fire.

It was only as Travis came awake and looked up into her eyes that Buffy noticed how singed his clothes were and how swollen his face was on the side nearest the fire,

“SHHHH,” Buffy hissed, “here,” she handed Travis the canteen, “drink this while I check on Chaco.”

Leaving Travis, Buffy crawled over to where Chaco lay; breathing a sigh of relief Buffy found that the old Mexican gentleman was still breathing. Quickly she cut his bonds and lifted his head as she held out her hand for the canteen. Crawling over to Buffy, Travis handed over the canteen, she splashed some water onto Chaco’s raw swollen face, he seemed to have been closer to the fire than Travis and there were actual blisters on the poor old man’s face.

“Bastards,” Buffy muttered under her breath; no doubt the Comanche hadn’t wanted to kill the two men, no that could wait until after they’d captured or killed Granny, Laura-Lee and Little Moonlight.

It made Buffy feel physically sick as she imagined Laura-Lee being gang raped by every buck in the village or Granny being cut to ribbons by sharp Indian knives and who knew what they’d do to Moonlight.

“Okay guys,” Buffy whispered, “can you walk?” she got weak but firm nods from the two men, “go that way,” Buffy pointed towards the pony herd, “grab some horses and get back to the ranch, I’ll watch your back.”

“But Sinorita…” Chaco began but was silenced my Buffy.

“Hey! No macho crap out of you two,” she snapped, “now get!” 

Stumbling to their feet, Travis and Chaco headed in the direction that Buffy had indicated. Unfortunately they didn’t get far. Perhaps the Indian had heard something, maybe he’d just stepped out to take a leak, whatever the reason he saw Travis and Chaco up and free. The last thing he did on this Earth was to open his mouth to raise the alarm. The night air was split by the crack of one of Buffy’s pistols firing.

“RUN!” she yelled at Travis and Chaco as she sprinted for her horse.

Vaulting into the saddle, Buffy was just in time to gun down two more Indians as they looked curiously from their tents and wondered what all the noise was about. They soon found out as the big, soft nosed, lead slugs smashed into their bodies, breaking bones and destroying internal organs.

Happier now she was back on her horse, Buffy used her knees to urge her mount into a canter as she hauled a pistol from the selection that hung from her saddle. With a pistol huge in each hand, Buffy rode through the camp shooting down warriors as the stumbled from their tents. This, she knew, wouldn’t last long, soon the Indians would realise they were being attacked and come after her alert and armed. Until then she’d keep shooting them down while they were half asleep and unarmed.

All too soon Buffy felt a bullet buzz past her head, ducking down over her horse’s neck, she turned her horse seeking out the shooter. Sure enough as her horse turned the Indian who’d shot at her came into view. Not bothering to try and reload the Indian was coming at her intent on beating out her brains with the butt of his musket. With almost insolent ease, Buffy waited until he was only a yard or so away from her before putting a .44 slug right between his eyes. The Indian ran on sliding under Buffy’s horse making it snort with alarm and skitter sideways away from the smell of blood.

Gunning down two more Indian’s who came out of the dark and raised their muskets at her, Buffy decided it was time to be somewhere else. Once more using her legs to control her mount she tried to be somewhere that the warriors weren’t looking. Cantering between the tents, she would burst out onto a group of braves. There’d be a volley of gunshots and braves would fall each shot once by the short, vengeful spirit on horse back. By the time any survivors had turned to confront their foe, the night rider would be somewhere else.

An Indian tribe was not an Army, that was its great weakness, and in a few years time the US Army would realise this and use this knowledge to destroy the fighting power of the red man. The tribe was a living thing and if it lost too many of its constituent parts it would die. At some point the surviving warriors realised that the fight was lost, there was no point trying to fight to the bitter end. Where regular soldiers might have fought on in an attempt to seriously damage their opponents even if this meant their own deaths, the Indians fled. First in ones or twos, then in groups herding their women and children ahead of them out along the valley where the village had been situated.

Riding back into the open area at the centre of the village, Buffy found no more targets for her pistols. Checking the weapons in her hands she noted that half the percussion caps on each weapon had been fired. Slipping these revolvers back into their holsters, she checked her other weapons and was surprised to find she still had two fully loaded revolvers left unfired.

Only as she rode between the village tents did she notice that the eastern horizon was getting lighter. Sighing tiredly, she decided that it was time to find Travis and Chaco and then head for home. Ten Bears and his tribe would never bother her or her family again. Encouraging her horse into a fast walk, Buffy headed towards where the pony herd had been corralled. Leaving the village behind her she found the spot easily enough but there were no ponies and, more importantly, no sign of her friends.

Coming to a halt, Buffy stood up in her saddle to get a better look around, still she could see no sign of her friends or the horses. However she did hear the sound of horse’s hooves drumming on the ground and getting nearer and nearer. Turning towards the sound, Buffy saw Ten Bears galloping towards her through the early morning light. 

Sometimes, just as the sun begins to rise the world turns blue with the light reflected off the sky. It was something Buffy had seen only once or twice in her career as a vampire slayer and it had always fascinated her with its beauty. Now, as if in slow motion, she saw the Indian Chief gallop towards her, like some blue demon its face contorted with rage and hate. Ten Bears was about twelve yards away when Buffy found the pistol in her hand, pulling back on the hammer with her thumb she waited until she could see the fires of hate in Ten Bears eyes and the sweat on his skin.

Firing, Buffy watched dispassionately as Ten Bears disappeared in a cloud of white powder smoke. Only moments later the Indian’s horse galloped by minus its rider. Looking down, Buffy saw the Chief lying on his back in the dust a neat round hole in his forehead. Sitting on her horse, Buffy looked at the dead Indian for quite some time and felt no sense of triumph and other than a vague sense of disappointment she felt nothing at all. She supposed she felt disappointed because, like, *Hey!* she’d won…again. But there was no real triumph in fighting enemies who couldn’t really harm her. It would have to be an incredibly lucky Indian who could have shot her.

“Buffy the Indian Slayer,” Buffy tried out the words; no they just didn’t sound right, she’d stick to ‘Buffy Summers, rancher, lover and friend’ that sounded much nicer.

Turning her horse’s head away from Ten Bears, Buffy caught a glimpse of something moving between the bushes and trees further down the valley. Breathing a sigh of relief, she saw Travis ride an Indian pony out into the open, he caught sight of her and waved. Time to go home, Buffy told herself.

0=0=0=0

“I never thought I’d be glad to see another Indian,” Travis laughed as Lone Watie helped him down from his captured pony.

Granny rushed up to Chaco and led him over to a bench against the side of the ranch house while Laura-Lee and Little Moonlight scurried about getting water and dressings for the men’s wounds.

Dismounting from her horse, Buffy suddenly felt very old, what was she now? Twenty-four, twenty-five? Whatever the truth she felt about a hundred-and-twenty-five just now and the weight of all her weapons made her want to simply collapse onto the floor, but she didn’t. Before she could collapse she had her horse to tend to and her guns to clean and reload only after that could she think of resting her head on a pillow and closing her eyes.

“Buffy?”

Looking up Buffy saw Laura-Lee standing in front of her waiting to be noticed.

“Buffy are you alright?” Laura-Lee took a step closer as she looked into Buffy’s eyes as if searching for something, whatever she was looking for she must have found it because a moment later she’d thrown herself into Buffy’s arms hard enough to make her stagger.

“Oh Buffy,” Laura-Lee gasped between kissing Buffy’s cheeks and lips, “I thought you’d been…I mean when you rode off like that I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Take more than a tribe of Comanche to keep me from you,” Buffy said thinking how corny it sounded even as she said the words.

“Hey, Laura-Lee,” it was Granny who spoke, “you can leave all that silliness awhile, there’s wounded that need tending to, Buffy won’t be goin’ anywhere, will you, Buffy?”

“No Granny,” Buffy replied, “that I won’t.”

0=0=0=0

The following night as Laura-Lee sat next to Buffy’s sleeping form in the back of the wagon they used as a bedroom, D’Hoffran stepped out of the night and looked in on them.

“So,” he smiled diabolically, “Ten Bears is dead and his tribe scattered to the four winds,” the demon’s smile got wider still, “it couldn’t have worked out better than if I’d planned it myself.”

“Yes,” Laura-Lee replied hard voiced as she stroked Buffy’s hair, “half of what I owe you is paid.”

“Yes you’ll soon be free of the vengeance fold,” D’Hoffran’s face took on a more serious demeanour, “then what will you do?”

“Live here, with Buffy,” Laura-Lee told him, “‘til we grow old and die.”

“I wonder if that’ll be enough for you?” the demon mused, “After all you have seen and you know life of a slayer can be full of danger…” the demon paused to let his words sink in, “…and short. I’m thinking you might end up calling to me for vengeance on your dead lovers killers.”

“Terrell?” Laura-Lee asked, “What do you know?”

“He’s coming,” D’Hoffran smirked.

“When?” Laura-Lee demanded.

“Oh,” D’Hoffran gave a long sigh, “soon, your slayer should keep her pistols clean and loaded, she’ll need them again before the month’s out.”

Not much given to maniacal laughter, D’Hoffran simply turned and walked back out into the night.

0=0=0=0


	13. Chapter 13

13.

Maybe a week after Buffy had rescued Travis and Chaco there was a party at the Crooked River Ranch. Well, not so much a party more of a celebration that everyone was still alive and it looked like it was going to stay that way even with winter coming on. There was food cooked over an open fire, as Travis scratched out some tunes on his fiddle. Rose, Ten Spot and Barkeep came in from Santa Rio and brought some beer and whiskey with them.

Dressed in her new pretty dress, Buffy stood to one side as her friends laughed and tried to dance. Smiling, Buffy watched as Ten Spot began to teach an uncertain Little Moonlight how to dance like a white person. The Indian girl had actually been scandalised by the fact that men and women danced together but she was slowly coming around to this new idea under Ten Spot’s gentle tuition.

“I’ve got something for you Buffy,” Laura-Lee walked away from the group to stand next to Buffy; she reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a length of braided hair. “I made this chain for you; I braided it out of my hair.”

“Gee that’s, like totally nice,” Buffy replied, not too sure how she was supposed to react or what she was supposed to do with the ‘chain’.

“It’s a bracelet,” Laura-Lee explained as she took the braid from Buffy’s fingers and tied it around her wrist, “with this on I’ll always be with you wherever you go.”

“Oh that’s totally sweet of you,” Buffy smiled as she felt herself starting to tear-up, this was so much more personal than that ring Angel had given her, “I’ll wear it always.”

“Could we…” Laura-Lee glanced over to where the others were dancing and laughing around the fire, “…play a song for you?”

“I’m sorry,” Buffy reached out to hold Laura-Lee’s hand, “I don’t really know too many songs.”

Laura-Lee led Buffy over to join the group.

“Can we play something you like?” Chaco asked.

For a moment Buffy didn’t know what to say what with everyone looking at her so expectantly, she really didn’t know any songs from this time. Just as she was about to say ‘no thank-you’ a memory popped into her mind, what was that song Jamie liked to sing? ‘Rose of Alabama’ that was it, for a moment Buffy remembered the young man in happier times, not as the corpse she’d used as a diversion to escape the cavalry. Jamie would have liked it down here in Texas; it would be a fitting memorial to sing his song.

“The only song I can remember,” Buffy explained, “is The Rose of Alabama…”

“Yeah, we remember that old piece, Rosie,” Travis gestured with his bow to the saloon ‘girl’, “come over here.”

Rose walked over to stand next to Travis, she closed her eyes for a moment as she searched her memory for the words to the song.

“ _Away from Mississippi's vale, with my ol' hat there for a sail,_ ” Rosie sang as Travis joined in on his fiddle, “ _I crossed upon a cotton bale, to the Rose of Alabamy._ ”

“ _Oh brown Rosie,_ ” everyone joined in with the chorus, even Buffy, “ _Rose of Alabamy. A sweet tobacco poesy, is my Rose of Alabamy…_ ”

“Do you dance?” Laura-Lee asked Buffy.

“No,” Buffy smiled as she shook her head, her idea of dancing was nothing like her friends.

“Me neither,” Laura-Lee took hold of Buffy’s hand with one of her own while placing her free hand on Buffy’s waist, she giggled happily, “I’ll lead…”

Together the two young women tried not to step on each others feet, as they shuffled uncertainly around in the sand, while their friends sang and the fiddle played.

0=0=0=0

It was still dark when Buffy woke up the next morning, her sleep had been disturbed by troubling dreams. Reaching over she touched Laura-Lee’s naked body to make sure she was still there. In her dream she’d seen the ranch house in flames; she’d seen Granny’s dead body lying in the sand along with those of Lone Watie, Travis and Chaco. Her dream had been more than the usual vivid slayer type dream. This one had sound and smell as well as coming to her in glorious, living ‘technocolor’. She’d seen Little Moonlight tied to a fence, her dress had been ripped open and someone had cut off her breasts. But worst of all, Buffy saw Terrill and his hated Redlegs gang raping Laura-Lee.

Shivering with the early morning cold and the fear of what might happen, Buffy slipped from the bed she shared with Laura-Lee and started to put on her clothes. Not her women’s clothes, she put on her men’s clothes, the clothes she used for fighting. After only taking a few minutes to get dressed, Buffy leaned over Laura-Lee’s sleeping form and kissed her softly on the cheek before turning and leaving the room. Buffy knew that she had to stop Terrill once and for all or everything she’d worked for here would be destroyed.

0=0=0=0

Hearing the door close behind Buffy, Laura-Lee began to sob quietly into her hand, she felt like a traitor. Last night D’Hoffryn had sent her news that Terrill and his riders were in Santa Rio and would be coming to the ranch early the next morning. It had been Laura-Lee who’d used the power of the wish to send Buffy the dream. It was Laura-Lee who had used Buffy’s deepest darkest fears to colour her dream and send her out to fight Terrill and his men. Stopping herself from crying, Laura-Lee sat up in bed and dried her eyes; Buffy might have to go out and fight Terrill to free them both from D’Hoffryn. But, that didn’t mean she had to fight alone.

0=0=0=0

In the stable, Buffy had just finished saddling her horse before checking that her pistols were loaded and ready for battle. The sound of a footstep made her look up from her work.

“You’re up kinda early, aren’t you?” Lone Watie said as he stood in the doorway of the barn.

“It’s been, totally great riding with you, Chief,” Buffy glanced at the old Indian before tying her bed roll to her saddle.

“Same here,” Lone Watie replied quietly.

“When you get to town,” Buffy found she couldn’t look the old man in the eye, so she went on with securing her gear, “get some really nice dresses for the ladies, okay?”

“I will,” Lone Watie’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Get something totally nice for Laura-Lee to wear when I come back in the spring,” Buffy sighed sadly.

“Yeah,” Lone Watie nodded his head.

“Or the next spring…” Buffy glanced over to the door way and heard Lone Watie say *Yeah* once more, she sighed heavily before speaking again, “Sometimes trouble just follows a girl around, y’know? Hell, I’ve totally been here too long as it…”

Buffy looked up to find that Lone Watie had gone.

“Whatever…” she shrugged before climbing aboard her horse and riding out into the early morning chill.

Riding past the ranch house she saw the smoke drifting lazily from the chimney, she saw the remains of the fire from yesterday, the new corral, the horses and cattle that she’d helped round up. For a moment she really didn’t want to leave, this was her life now, something she’d help build with her own hands, but… But, if she didn’t go out and finish it with Terrill she knew that he’d come here and destroy everything she loved and had worked for. She was the slayer, the protector, she couldn’t let that happen, not now, not again. Riding away from the ranch, Buffy looked up to see a lone rider sitting on his horse on the opposite side of the river, Buffy recognised him instantly; Terrill! 

“Buffy Summers!” Terrill called out, as Buffy rode up to him, he had obviously recognised her too.

Buffy halted her horse on the river bank and looked at the man who’d been dogging her trail for more than a year now. There was the same old blue, uniform jacket, the black slouch hat pinned up on the left-hand-side, the sabre at his waist and the red leather legging that gave his unit its name.

The two riders sat on their horses for a minute or two simply looking at each other. For a second Buffy thought that Terrill had come to fight her by himself. Now that would be very foolish, Buffy told herself; she knew Terrill was stupid but she’d not believed he was that stupid as to try and face her by himself. Of course she was right he wasn’t that stupid, no sooner had these thoughts entered her mind that Buffy heard, and seconds later saw, riders gallop around the bend in the river to come and line up next to Terrill.

Now they were all there, Buffy saw there were maybe twenty riders, it would only take one of them to get lucky and she’d be dead and her friends would die soon afterwards; she couldn’t let that happen. Watching she saw the Redlegs advance in one long line as they crossed the river and came up the bank to halt only one horse’s length in front of her; Terrill looked her in the eye and smiled.

“You’re all alone now, Summers,” Terrill sneered.

“Whatever,” Buffy sighed tiredly; the sound of window shutters being thrown open and muskets being cocked wiped the smirk off the man’s face.

“Not quite alone,” Lone Watie’s voice came from inside the ranch house.

Buffy smiled not taking her eyes off Terrill for a moment. For what felt like a very long time she just sat watching Terrill get more and more nervous. Her hands started to move slowly towards pistols and then suddenly two shots rang out to shatter the early morning peace. Finding two pistols already in her hands, Buffy fired twice, one bullet hit the man to the left of Terrill the other to the right, but the man himself remained unscathed.

One of Terrill’s men fired point blank at Buffy as firing became general all along the Redleg’s line. The bullet hit Buffy a glancing blow and was deflected by her rib. However, the force of the bullet knocked her from her horse. Crashing to the ground, Buffy forced herself up into a half sitting, half lying position, she kept firing as fast as her thumbs could cock her pistols and her fingers pull the triggers. Down fell the Redlegs as her bullets punched into their bodies and their horses milled around in panic.

Fire from the ranch house soon started to take effected as Buffy swapped her empty pistols for full ones. Rifle bullets plucked riders from their saddles thinning out the Redlegs even more. Seeing that all was lost, Terrill aimed one last shot at Buffy as a bullet caught him in the upper chest; his shot went wide and he dropped his pistol onto the sand. Swaying in his saddle he looked down at the bloody hole in his shoulder, turned his horse and galloped off towards Santa Rio.

Firing and bringing down one last Redleg, Buffy suddenly found herself unengaged. The few remaining Redlegs had bypassed her and were attacking the ranch house where the defenders shot them down from behind the house’s thick walls, forcing them to retreat into the trees growing around the house. Seeing Terrill riding for his life back down the valley towards Santa Rio, Buffy climbed to her feet raised a pistol, cocked, aimed and fired. The hammer fell on a fired cap and she watched helplessly as Terrill made his escape.

Ignoring the pain in her chest, her rib was probably cracked if not broken, Buffy caught her horse, vaulted into the saddle and gave chase, following Terrill towards the old town. While Buffy galloped after Terrill the last few Redlegs tried to make good their escape but they were shot down like the dogs they were before they could mount up and ride away. As the firing petered out, Granny lead the defenders from the house and looked out after the little dust cloud that indicated Buffy’s position. There was nothing any of them could do to help, and she doubted that Buffy would thank them for it if they tried, this was something she had to do by herself.

“Come on,” Granny sighed as she rested her musket against the wall of the ranch house, “we better get this mess cleaned up before Buffy gets home.”

0=0=0=0

Following Terrill into Santa Rio, Buffy lost the man in the jumble of tumbledown buildings. However she knew he must be there somewhere, she’d seen the bullet wound and she knew he couldn’t get far without at least trying to stop the bleeding. Getting off her horse she walked a few paces down the deserted street. Sniffing she smelt, horses, her own sweat, crap and blood. Casting about for any clue she saw a spot of blood soaking into the sand. Rushing over to the tell-tail red spot she saw another, then another. They all seemed to be heading in the direction of the stable just down the street aways from the old saloon.

Hurrying after her quarry, Buffy followed the blood trail to the stable, she’d been right, Terrill must be badly hurt and using the stable to hide in while he dressed his wounds. Seeing a smeared hand print on the door post, Buffy went into the dark stable and saw Terrill standing in the open trying to bind up his wound in the light from the open main door. Pulling a pistol, Buffy cocked it and pointed it at Terrill, pulling the trigger the hammer fell on an empty chamber.

“Damn it!” Buffy cursed.

Hearing Buffy, Terrill looked up in shock and fear as the young woman’s pistol clicked time and time again on empty chambers. Furiously Buffy swapped one pistol for another only to find that she’d fired off all of her cartridges. Smiling at Buffy’s misfortune, Terrill started to think he might yet escape death and bring Buffy’s head back to his boss up in Kansas. While he’d lost his own pistol miles back on the trail he still had his sabre.

Grasping the hilt of the sword with his left hand (his right being out of action due to the bullet wound he’d suffered) Terrill started to draw his weapon. Realising what Terrill was trying to do, Buffy forgot about her pistols and was on the man in an instant. Grabbing hold of Terrill’s left wrist with one hand she caught hold of the back of the sword blade with the other. 

Smiling at the man who’d tried to ruin her life, Buffy easily forced the tip of the sword against his stomach. Slowly, hardly using any of her full slayer strength she forced the blade into Terrill’s belly. Gasping with pain, the Redleg leader looked wide eyed at the little woman who was killing him. Even as he died he couldn’t believe that she was so strong and she had defeated him so easily.

0=0=0=0


	14. Chapter 14

14.

Looking down at Terrill’s dead body, Buffy felt nothing for a moment or two; no elation, no triumph, nothing. Then, slowly she started to realise that it was over, everything that had controlled her life for the last five or more years was gone. There was nothing to stop her going back to Laura-Lee and living out their lives together on the ranch; no more fighting, no more being the chosen one, she would be normal; or at least as normal as she could be.

“Ow!” Buffy cried as she bent to pick up one of her discarded revolvers, “That hurt.”

Looking down at herself she found her own blood staining her shirt. Pulling her clothing away from her skin she looked inside her shirt; pushing her breast aside she saw the long red gash along one of her ribs. Making a pad out of her bandana, she placed it over the wound, it wasn’t too bad and the pad should help stop the bleeding before she could get home and let Granny and Laura-Lee fuss over her.

Walking out into the daylight, Buffy turned her feet towards the saloon, she thought it was probably best to tell Barkeep, Ten Spot and Rose what had happened before Terrill’s body started to smell. After tying her horse to the hitching rail, she climbed the two steps up onto the boardwalk and slowly pushed her way through the swing doors into the Lost Lady.

“…the bullets were flying,” Ten Spot's voice was the first thing to register on Buffy’s ears as she walked over to the bar, “and people were running every which way. Me and Miss Rose were ducking for cover because one didn’t know where the shots were coming from…”

Buffy looked over to where Ten Spot was standing in front of three tough looking men as he told his story. Suddenly Buffy found herself the centre of attention as Ten Spot, Rose and Barkeep all turned to look at her with worried eyes. Ten Spot looked at Rose and Rose looked at Buffy, eventually Barkeep broke the rather pregnant silence that had filled the old saloon.

“Mrs Wilson!” Barkeep cried with false jollity, “Good morning…”

“Hello Mrs Wilson…” Ten Spot stammered as Buffy wondered why her friends had suddenly taken to calling her ‘Mrs Wilson’. “we were just telling these fellas a little story about an outlaw that passed thought this way a while back…I don’t suppose you’d know anything about her…”

Buffy looked at Ten Spot as if he’d been touched by the sun once too often, she was just about to say something when Barkeep spoke up again and probably saved her life.

“These two fellas down here is Texas Rangers,” Barkeep laughed with his mouth but pleaded with Buffy to keep her mouth shut with his eyes, “been on her trail along with this other fella…what you say your name was again?”

“Fletcher,” Fletcher looked right up into Buffy’s eyes.

Damn-it-all, Buffy sighed just when she thought she was free and clear her past had caught up with her once again.

“Anyway,” Barkeep continued not realising that the deception was now pointless, “they’ve been chasing this outlaw and it just so happens that old Ten Spot knows all about it!”

“It was in Mexico a little while back,” Ten Spot began to stumble over his words, “this outlaw went up against these five pistoleros, she got three of ‘em before they gunned her down, isn’t that right Miss Rose?”

“That’s right,” replied Rosie, the best actor in the room, as her voice gave nothing away, “her name was…erm…Buffy Summers.”

“Well if that’s what happened then Buffy Summers must be dead,” announced one of the Texas Rangers as his partner finished writing up Ten Spot’s statement.

Buffy watched as Fletcher got up and moved slowly towards the bar.

“Oh, she is dead,” Rose confirmed before looking directly at Buffy and adding, “dead alright.”

“Will you sign this statement,” the Ranger with the note book held out his pencil to Ten Spot.

“Sign?” Ten Spot replied hesitantly, “I sure will…” Taking the Ranger’s pencil he scrawled his name at the bottom of the witness statement.

“That’s it,” said the Ranger as he closed his book and stood up, “Nice meeting you Mrs Wilson,” he tipped his hat to Buffy as he and his partner slowly walked out of the saloon.

Fletcher stepped away from the bar and followed the Rangers out into the street not giving Buffy a second glance as he passed her by. Standing on the board walk, Fletcher watched as the two Rangers mounted up and rode off.

“I don’t believe that story about Buffy Summers,” Fletcher announced once everyone had joined him outside.

“You don’t?” Ten Spot asked as Buffy came out of the bar to stand with them.

“No sir, I don’t,” Fletcher continued as he stepped down into the street, “I don’t believe no five pistolaros could do in Buffy Summers…”

“Maybe it was six,” Rose suggested, “could have even been ten.”

“I think she’s still alive,” Fletcher looked right at Buffy as he spoke.

“Alive?” Ten Spot coughed, “No sir!”

Buffy stepped down off the boardwalk and walked along the street a little before turning back to face Fletcher.

“I think I’ll go down to Mexico and try to find her,” Fletcher announced after a short pause.

“And then?” Buffy looked straight into Fletcher’s eyes and saw only acceptance, no more anger, no more hate, no desire for vengeance.

“She’s got the first move,” Fletcher said as he walked towards where Buffy stood, “I owe her that. I think I’ll try to tell her that the war’s over,” Fletcher looked down at Buffy and the blood that had stained her boot, “What do you say Mrs Wilson?”

“Totally,” Buffy sighed with relief, “I guess we all died a little in that damn war.”

Turning away from Fletcher, Buffy went over to her horse and heaved herself into the saddle before cantering off down the street and towards the Crooked River Ranch. When she got home perhaps she could hang up her guns forever.

0=0=0=0

**The Epilogue.**

**Springfield County Hospital, Springfield, Texas, 1937.**

Standing in the hospital corridor, Sheriff Phil Travis fiddled nervously with the brim of his hat. He’d received the message just as he was about to drive out to the Adams' ranch, old man Adams was complaining that the Indians were coming off their Reservation and stealing his cattle again. Travis knew that was just so much crap, Adams’ cows had probably just wandered off, he could wait; the call from the hospital sounded much more…well, not important, maybe more interesting.

The message said that Mrs Wilson, Springfield county’s oldest resident, was in hospital and needed to talk to him _urgently_. The Sheriff glanced at the door that led to Mrs Wilson’s private room and wondered why she wanted to talk to him, she’d never had much time for the law she’d always dealt with things herself. He’d known Mrs Wilson all his life, he’d been born in Springfield before the turn of the century and Mrs Wilson had always just sort of been there; coming in from her Crooked River Ranch (one of the biggest in the county) to go shopping or to attend a town meeting.

Sometimes she came in for the county fair or to visit the local school. He remembered sitting bored to distraction one time when he was about ten. Having to listen to Mrs Wilson going on about how important education was. Of course she’d been right, but at ten he’d not realised just how right she was. Okay, he’d done well for himself since coming back from the Great War, but he always had this nagging feeling that he could have done better if he’d taken Mrs Wilson’s advice.

The door opened dragging Travis back from his ten year old self to the present, Charlene Cooper stood smiling at him. Charlene was in her early twenties and had been a nurse here at the hospital for a couple of years. Travis was desperately in lust with her but he was a married man so he’d do nothing, except maybe check out her legs and butt the next time she walked away from him.

“Mrs Wilson’s awake now, Sheriff,” Charlene smiled and Travis wondered if she knew just how much he wanted to… “Sheriff?”

“Sorry, yes?” Sheriff Travis shook his head to get his mind back on the job.

“Mrs Wilson can see you now,” Charlene’s smile got wider as she held the door open for him and he walked into the room.

0=0=0=0

“Hi Sheriff,” Mrs Wilson smiled up at him from her bed and watched Travis cast a longing look over his shoulder as Charlene closed the door and walked away, “still lusting after Charlene I see,” Mrs Wilson’s chuckle turned into a wet cough, it took a moment or two for her to control it and speak again, “Just remember you’re a married man Sheriff…”

“You wanted to speak to me?” Travis turned all his attention onto the old lady in the bed, “The note said urgent.”

Watching as the old woman nodded, Travis had to admit that for a woman who must be near a hundred years old she still looked pretty good for her age. Her eyes were still good, she could hear like a bat and she’d only given up riding a horse a couple of years ago. Her hair was a sort of silver colour and the flesh under her smooth skin still looked firm; it hadn’t taken on that sagging look that old people sometimes got. But most of all her eyes were still bright and seemed to be looking right through him as if uncovering his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembered that as a very small boy he’d been a little scared of those green eyes.

“Sit down Sheriff,” Mrs Wilson gestured to a chair, “I’m old and I’m dying and I need to put some things in order.”

“You don’t look as if you’re dying to me,” Travis observed with a smile; truth was Mrs Wilson looked to be in rude health.

“No-no,” Buffy shook her head, “I can feel it,” she paused before adding, “who’d have thought that good health, old age and the ability to know when you’re about to die was all part of the slayer package…”

“The what?” Travis frowned.

“Whatever,” Mrs Wilson sighed, “there’s a few things I want to confess to and arrange before I go.”

“Wouldn’t Reverend James be better to…” Travis began but stopped when Mrs Wilson shook his head.

“Reverend James?” Mrs Wilson muttered dismissively, “Calls himself a Reverend, not a patch on old Reverend Peabody…” Mrs Wilson smiled to herself, “Now there was a real man, never had much time for religion myself but Peabody…” she smiled remembering something, “…y’know he never said one thing about Laura-Lee and me…and when the busy bodies used to flap there lips about us he always used to say, ‘judge not least ye be judged’, or something like that,” Mrs Wilson signed, “Guess I’m gonna find out if he was right, pretty darn soon now.”

Shifting in his seat, Sheriff Travis remembered the rumours about Mrs Wilson and her ‘sister’ Laura-Lee; about how they weren’t really sisters and…well, he didn’t put much store by rumours. The Wilsons were ‘good people’ and that was all that mattered in his book.

“Whatever,” Mrs Wilson took a deep breath, “you ain’t come to hear about all that,” she gestured with her hand, “you might wanna get your note book out and take notes…” she smiled, “…could be I’ll be asking questions later…if’n I’m still totally here to ask ‘em of course.”

Dutifully Sheriff Travis pulled a notebook from the pocket of his shirt and got out a pencil.

“First off,” Mrs Wilson began, “my name isn’t Buffy Wilson or even Mrs Wilson, its Buffy Anne Summers. Back during the War Between the States I rode with Bloody Bill Anderson, I was a murderin’, bushwhackin’ Missouri raider; y’know? I’ve lost count of the number of men I killed back then.”

Travis looked at the old lady in the bed disbelievingly; she seemed to know he didn’t believe a word of what she’d said.

“You’ll find all the evidence, my guns and a few wanted posters I kept as keepsakes in the trunk in my bedroom closet.” She laughed, “There can’t have been too many female outlaws called ‘Buffy’ back then…always knew that name would come in handy one day…”

“But that was years ago,” Travis thought it best to humour her, “and it was war time.”

“But, you see, I never did surrendered at the end of the war,” Buffy admitted, “and I really think its time I did…”

“Well, if y’feel that strongly about it…” Travis began but was interrupted by the old woman; she seemed to need to say something more so he decided to let her talk.

“I was married, I had kids,” Buffy’s false and true memories had blurred into one over the years, “my husband and children were murdered by Captain Terrill and his Redlegs…” Buffy’s eyes seemed to be seeing that terrible day all over again, “…there were about a dozen of them and although I’d been knocked out cold, I just knew they’d all taken their turn…”

For a minute, Travis didn’t know what Mrs Wilson meant and then it suddenly struck him as to what must have happened.

“…so when Bloody Bill and his men rode by, I joined up.” Buffy paused again before adding, “Understand I’m not telling you this as an excuse for what I did, its…its sorta the reason…”

Slowly over the next hour or so, Buffy told Sheriff Travis the story of her life; how she’d escaped from Missouri and travelled to Texas. How she’d fought the Comancheros and wiped out Ten Bears’ warriors and finally how she’d fought and killed Terrill.

“You’ll find him under the old livery sable at the south end of Main Street in Santa Rio,” Santa Rio was once again a thriving mining town, “Barkeep and Ten Spot buried him there after I killed him with his own sword…”

“Mrs Wilson,” Travis found he couldn’t call her ‘Miss Summers’ not after all these years, “even if all you say is true…”

“And it totally is,” Buffy said forcefully.

“Yeah, right,” Travis glanced down at the notes he’d scrawled in his note book, “all this happened so long ago that I don’t think anyone would…” he was going to say ‘care’ but decided against it, “…what I mean…” 

He stopped talking as he saw Buffy staring off into the distance a faint smile on her lips, she seemed to be remembering happier times with all those legendary people from her past.

“One last thing,” Buffy turned to look at Travis with eyes that had gone misty, “bury me next to Laura-Lee…”

Looking around the room Buffy saw them all there; her Mom, Jamie, Granny Sarah, Lone Watie, Little Moonlight, Travis, Chaco, they were all there waiting for her to come and join them. Movement to her right caused her to turn her head to see Laura-Lee sit down on her bed; she reached out her hand to Buffy.

“I think I’ll go to sleep now…” Buffy sighed as she took the girl’s hand, “…Laura-Lee,” she smiled and closed her eyes.

Standing for a minute or two still half expecting the old lady to say something more, Sheriff Travis eventually reached out his hand and felt for a pulse. Mrs Wilson was dead. He’d better call Charlene and the doctor in to confirm it but he knew a dead body when he saw one. Looking down at the note book in his hand, Travis wondered about what he should do. Of course he’d see to it that Buffy Wilson was buried next to Laura-Lee Wilson in the Wilson family plot, but the other stuff he just didn’t know, he needed to think about that.

0=0=0=0

Waking up in the dark, Buffy knew with a certainty that couldn’t be denied that she’d died and she’d gone somewhere where she’d been loved. That somehow she was back in her own world and she was lying in her coffin. With a strength born of the slayer added to her panic at being buried ‘alive’, Buffy fought her way out of her coffin and towards the surface.

The End.

0=0=0=0


End file.
